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THE    CHILDREN'S    BOOK    OF 
CHRISTMAS    STORIES 


CHRISTMAS   JOLLITY 

(John  Leech's  "Mr.  Fezziwig's  Ball,"  from  Dickens    "Christmas  Carol."} 


LlBl 


THE  CHILDREN'S   BOOK 

OF 
CHRISTMAS  STORIES 


EDITED   BY 

ASA  DON  DICKINSON 

AND 

ADA  M.  SKINNER 


GARDEN    CITY,    NEW    YORK 

DOUBLEDAY  &  COMPANY,  INC. 


COPYRIGHT,       1913,      BY      DOUBLEDAY      ic 
COMPANY,     INC.    ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED. 

PRINTED   IN   THE   UNITBB   STATES  OF  AMERICA 


PA/GDI 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

The  Publishers  desire  to  acknowledge  the  kindness  of 
the  J.  B.  Lippincott  Co.,  Houghton  Mifflin  Co.,  D.  C. 
Heath  &  Co.,  The  Bobbs-Merrill  Co.,  Milton  Bradley 
Co.,  Henry  Altemus  Co.,  Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepherd  Co., 
Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  Moffat,  Yard  &  Co.,  American 
Book  Co.,  Perry,  Mason  Co.,  Duffield  &  Co.,  Chicago 
Kindergarten  College,  and  others,  who  have  granted 
them  permission  to  reproduce  herein  selections  from 
works  bearing  their  copyright. 


174 


PREFACE 

Many  librarians  have  felt  the  need  and  expressed 
the  desire  for  a  select  collection  of  children's  Christmas 
stories  in  one  volume.  This  book  claims  to  be  just 
that  and  nothing  more. 

Each  of  the  stories  has  already  won  the  approval  of 
thousands  of  children,  and  each  is  fraught  with  the  true 
Christmas  spirit. 

It  is  hoped  that  the  collection  will  prove  equally 
acceptable  to  parents,  teachers,  and  librarians. 

ASA  DON  DICKINSON. 


VII 


CONTENTS 

(Note. —  The  stories  marked  with  a  star  (*)  will  be  most 
enjoyed  by  younger  children;  those  marked  with  a  dagger  (f) 
are  better  suited  to  older  children.) 

PAGE 

Christmas  at  Fezziwig's  Warehouse.    By  Charles  Dickens  3 
The  Fir-Tree.     By  Hans  Christian  Andersen    ...  6 
The  Christmas  Masquerade.    By  Mary  E.  Wilkins  Free- 
man   i'V.ill.1       v'     .*       .sK/'^&.-'i   ir-  '••••:-•'-•>.*•>  '-S.-'':"^  .  19 

*The  Shepherds  and  the  Angels.      Adapted   from    the 

Bible ?»,.,'*  34 

fThe  TeUtale  Tile.     By  Olive  Thorne  Miller       »    -v^v    .  36 

"Little  Girl's  Christmas.     By  Winnif red  E.Lincoln    .       .  48 

fA  Christmas  Matinee.    By  M.  A.  L.  Lane       .      V11".  57 

Toinette  and  the  Elves.     By  Susan  Coolidge  .     •*.'••>'.  68 
The  Voyage  of  the  Wee  Red  Cap.     By  Ruth  Sawyer  Du- 

rand    ...» 86 

*A  Story  of  the  Christ-Child  (a  German  Legend  for  Christ- 
mas Eve).    As  told  by  Elizabeth  Harrison      ...  96 
*Jimmy  Scarecrow's   Christmas,     by  Mary    E.  Wilkins 

Freeman 103 

Why  the  Chimes  Rang.     By  Raymond  McAlden    .       .  113 

*The  Birds'  Christmas  (founded  on  fact).    By  F.  E.  Mann  120 

fThe  Little  Sister's  Vacation.    By  Winifred  M.  Kirkland  126 
"Little  Wolff's  Wooden  Shoes.     By  Franqois  Coppee,  adapted 

and  translated  by  Alma  J.Foster 139 

tChristmas  in  the  Alley.    By  Olive  Thorne  Miller        .       .  146 

*A  Christmas  Star.    By  Katherine  Pyle     ....  158 

fThe  Queerest  Christmas.    By  Grace  Margaret  Gattaher  165 

Old  Father  Christmas.    By  J.  H.  Ewing        .       .       .  179 

ii 


x  CONTENTS 

A  Christmas  Cafol.  By  Charles  Dickens  ....  193 
How  Christmas  Came  to  the  Santa  Maria  Flats.  By  Elia 

W.  Peattie 196 

The  Legend  of  Babouscka.  From  the  Russian  Folk  Tale  208 
*Christmas  in  the  Barn.  By  F.  Arnstein  .  .  .  .211 

The  Philanthropist's  Christmas.  By  James  Weber  Linn  216 

*The  First  Christmas-Tree.  By  Lucy  Wheelock  •  .  ,  230 
The  First  New  England  Christmas.  By  G.  L.  Stone  and 

M.G.Fickett  .  .  .  i*  ,*  .  .»  .  .  232 

The  Cratchits'  Christmas  Dinner.  By  Charles  Dickens  .  242 
Christmas  in  Seventeen  Seventy-Six.  By  Anne  Boilings- 

worth  Wharton  ,  ^  u,;-,^  .'>•'•  .  .  .  .  253 

*Christmas  Under  the  Snow.  By  Olive  Thome  Miller  .  261 

Mr.  Bluff's  Experience  of  Holidays.  By  Oliver  Bell  Bunce  273 

fMaster  Sandy's  Snapdragon.  By  Elbridge  S.  Brooks  .  284 

A  Christmas  Fairy.  By  John  Strange  Winter  .  .  .  297 

The  Greatest  of  These.  By  Joseph  Mills  Hanson  .  .  303 
*Little  Gretchen  and  the  Wooden  Shoe.  By  Elizabeth 

Harrison  .  »A  .  .  .<  .  •  .  .  .  .  316 

fChristmas  on  Big  Rattle.  By  Theodore  Goodridge  Roberts  329 


THE   CHILDREN'S   BOOK  OF 
CHRISTMAS   STORIES 


CHRISTMAS  AT  FEZZIWIG'S  WAREHOUSE 

CHARLES    DICKENS 

YO  HO !  my  boys, "  said  Fezziwig.  "  No  more  work 
to-night!  Christmas  Eve,  Dick!  Christmas, 
Ebenezer!  Let's  have  the  shutters  up!"  cried  old 
Fezziwig  with  a  sharp  clap  of  his  hands,  "before  a  man 
can  say  Jack  Robinson.  .  .  . " 

"Hilli-ho!"  cried  old  Fezziwig,  skipping  down  from 
the  high  desk  with  wonderful  agility.  "Clear  away, 
my  lads,  and  let's  have  lots  of  room  here!  Hilli-ho, 
Dick!  Cheer-up,  Ebenezer!" 

Clear  away!  There  was  nothing  they  wouldn't  have 
cleared  away,  or  couldn't  have  cleared  away  with  old 
Fezziwig  looking  on.  It  was  done  in  a  minute.  Every 
movable  was  packed  off,  as  if  it  were  dismissed  from 
public  lifeforevermore;the  floor  was  swept  and  watered, 
the  lamps  were  trimmed,  fuel  was  heaped  upon  the  fire; 
and  the  warehouse  was  as  snug,  and  warm,  and  dry, 
and  bright  a  ballroom  as  you  would  desire  to  see  on  a 
winter's  night. 

In  came  a  fiddler  with  a  music  book,  and  went  up  to 
the  lofty  desk  and  made  an  orchestra  of  it  and  tuned 
like  fifty  stomach-aches.  In  came  Mrs.  Fezziwig,  one 

3 


4          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

vast  substantial  smile.  In  came  the  three  Misses 
Fezziwig,  beaming  and  lovable.  In  came  the  six  fol- 
lowers whose  hearts  they  broke.  In  came  all  the  young 
men  and  women  employed  in  the  business.  In  came 
the  housemaid  with  her  cousin  the  baker.  In  came  the 
cook  with  her  brother's  particular  friend  the  milkman. 
In  came  the  boy  from  over  the  way,  who  was  suspected 
of  not  having  board  enough  from  his  master,  trying  to 
hide  himself  behind  the  girl  from  next  door  but  one  who 
was  proved  to  have  had  her  ears  pulled  by  her  mistress; 
in  they  all  came,  anyhow  and  everyhow.  Away  they 
all  went,  twenty  couple  at  once;  hands  half  round  and 
back  again  the  other  way;  down  the  middle  and  up 
again;  round  and  round  in  various  stages  of  affectionate 
grouping,  old  top  couple  always  turning  up  in  the  wrong 
place;  new  top  couple  starting  off  again,  as  soon  as  they 
got  there;  all  top  couples  at  last,  and  not  a  bottom  one 
to  help  them. 

When  this  result  was  brought  about  the  fiddler  struck 
up  "  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley. "  Then  old  Fezziwig  stood 
out  to  dance  with  Mrs.  Fezziwig.  Top  couple,  too, 
with  a  good  stiff  piece  of  work  cut  out  for  them;  three  or 
four  and  twenty  pairs  of  partners;  people  who  were  not 
to  be  trifled  with;  people  who  would  dance  and  had  no 
notion  of  walking. 

But  if  they  had  been  thrice  as  many  —  oh,  four 
times  as  many  —  old  Fezziwig  would  have  been  a 
match  for  them,  and  so  would  Mrs.  Fezziwig.  As  to 
her,  she  was  worthy  to  be  his  partner  in  every  sense  of 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES  5 

the  term.  If  that's  not  high  praise,  tell  me  higher  and 
I'll  use  it.  A  positive  light  appeared  to  issue  from 
Fezziwig's  calves.  They  shone  in  every  part  of  the 
dance  like  moons.  You  couldn't  have  predicted  at 
any  given  time  what  would  become  of  them  next.  And 
when  old  Fezziwig  and  Mrs.  Fezziwig  had  gone  all 
through  the  dance,  advance  and  retire;  both  hands  to 
your  partner,  bow  and  courtesy,  corkscrew,  thread  the 
needle,  and  back  again  to  your  place;  Fezziwig  "cut" 
—  cut  so  deftly  that  he  appeared  to  wink  with  his  legs, 
and  came  upon  his  feet  again  with  a  stagger. 

When  the  clock  struck  eleven  the  domestic  ball  broke 
up.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fezziwig  took  their  stations,  one  on 
either  side  of  the  door,  and  shaking  hands  with  every 
person  individually,  as  he  or  she  went  out,  wished  him 
or  her  a  Merry  Christmas! 


II 

THE  FIR-TREE* 

HANS   CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN 

OUT  in  the  woods  stood  a  nice  little  Fir-tree.  The 
place  he  had  was  a  very  good  one;  the  sun  shone 
on  him;  as  to  fresh  air,  there  was  enough  of  that,  and 
round  him  grew  many  large-sized  comrades,  pines  as 
well  as  firs.  But  the  little  Fir  wanted  so  very  much  to 
be  a  grown-up  tree. 

He  did  not  think  of  the  warm  sun  and  of  the  fresh  air; 
he  did  not  care  for  the  little  cottage  children  that  ran 
about  and  prattled  when  they  were  in  the  woods  looking 
for  wild  strawberries.  The  children  often  came  with 
a  whole  pitcher  full  of  berries,  or  a  long  row  of  them 
threaded  on  a  straw,  and  sat  down  near  the  young  tree 
and  said,  "Oh,  how  pretty  he  is!  what  a  nice  little  fir!" 
But  this  was  what  the  Tree  could  not  bear  to  hear. 

At  the  end  of  a  year  he  had  shot  up  a  good  deal,  and 
after  another  year  he  was  another  long  bit  taller;  for 
with  fir-trees  one  can  always  tell  by  the  shoots  how 
many  years  old  they  are. 

"Oh,  were  I  but  such  a  high  tree  as  the  others  are!" 
sighed  he.  "Then  I  should  be  able  to  spread  out  my 

*Reprinted  by  permission  of  the  Houghton-Mifflin  Company. 

6 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES  7 

branches,  and  with  the  tops  to  look  into  the  wide 
world!  Then  would  the  birds  build  nests  among  my 
branches;  and  when  there  was  a  breeze,  I  could  bend 
with  as  much  stateliness  as  the  others!" 

Neither  the  sunbeams,  nor  the  birds,  nor  the  red 
clouds,  which  morning  and  evening  sailed  above  them, 
gave  the  little  Tree  any  pleasure. 

In  winter,  when  the  snow  lay  glittering  on  the  ground, 
a  hare  would  often  come  leaping  along,  and  jump  right 
over  the  little  Tree.  Oh,  that  made  him  so  angry! 
But  two  winters  were  past,  and  in  the  third  the  tree 
was  so  large  that  the  hare  was  obliged  to  go  round  it. 
"To  grow  and  grow,  to  get  older  and  be  tall,"  thought 
the  Tree  —  "that,  after  all,  is  the  most  delightful 
thing  in  the  world!" 

In  autumn  the  wood-cutters  always  came  and  felled 
some  of  the  largest  trees.  This  happened  every  year; 
and  the  young  Fir-tree,  that  had  now  grown  to  a  very 
comely  size,  trembled  at  the  sight;  for  the  magnificent 
great  trees  fell  to  the  earth  with  noise  and  cracking, 
the  branches  were  lopped  off,  and  the  trees  looked  long 
and  bare;  they  were  hardly  to  be  recognized;  and  then 
they  were  laid  in  carts,  and  the  horses  dragged  them  out 
of  the  woods. 

Where  did  they  go  to?    What  became  of  them? 

In  spring,  when  the  Swallows  and  the  Storks  came, 
the  Tree  asked  them,  "Don't  you  know  where  they 
have  been  taken?  Have  you  not  met  them  anywhere?" 

The  Swallows  did  not  know  anything  about  it;  but 


8  CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

the  Stork  looked  musing,  nodded  his  head,  and  said: 
"Yes,  I  think  I  know;  I  met  many  ships  as  I  was  flying 
hither  from  Egypt;  on  the  ships  were  magnificent 
masts,  and  I  venture  to  assert  that  it  was  they  that 
smelt  so  of  fir.  I  may  congratulate  you,  for  they  lifted 
themselves  on  high  most  majestically!" 

"Oh,  were  I  but  old  enough  to  fly  across  the  sea! 
But  how  does  the  sea  look  in  reality?  What  is  it  like?  " 

"That  would  take  a  long  time  to  explain,"  said  the 
Stork,  and  with  these  words  off  he  went. 

"Rejoice  in  thy  growth!"  said  the  Sunbeams, 
"rejoice  hi  thy  vigorous  growth,  and  in  the  fresh  life 
that  moveth  within  thee!" 

And  the  Wind  kissed  the  Tree,  and  the  Dew  wept 
tears  over  him;  but  the  Fir  understood  it  not. 

When  Christmas  came,  quite  young  trees  were  cut 
down;  trees  which  often  were  not  even  as  large  or  of 
the  same  age  as  this  Fir-tree,  who  could  never  rest,  but 
always  wanted  to  be  off.  These  young  trees,  and  they 
were  always  the  finest  looking,  retained  their  branches; 
they  were  laid  on  carts,  and  the  horses  drew  them  out 
of  the  woods. 

"Where  are  they  going  to?"  asked  the  Fir.  "They 
are  not  taller  than  I;  there  was  one  indeed  that  was 
considerably  shorter;  and  why  do  they  retain  all  their 
branches?  Whither  are  they  taken?  " 

"  We  know !  we  know ! "  chirped  the  Sparrows.  "  We 
have  peeped  in  at  the  windows  in  the  town  below! 
We  know  whither  they  are  taken!  The  greatest 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES  9 

splendour  and  the  greatest  magnificence  one  can  im- 
agine await  them.  We  peeped  through  the  windows, 
and  saw  them  planted  in  the  middle  of  the  warm  room, 
and  ornamented  with  the  most  splendid  things  —  with 
gilded  apples,  with  gingerbread,  with  toys,  and  many 
hundred  lights!" 

"And  then?"  asked  the  Fir-tree,  trembling  in  every 
bough.  "  And  then?  What  happens  then?  " 

"  We  did  not  see  anything  more:  it  was  incomparably 
beautiful." 

"I  would  fain  know  if  I  am  destined  for  so  glorious 
a  career,"  cried  the  Tree,  rejoicing.  "That  is  still 
better  than  to  cross  the  sea!  What  a  longing  do  I 
suffer!  Were  Christmas  but  come!  I  am  now  tall, 
and  my  branches  spread  like  the  others  that  were 
carried  off  last  year!  Oh,  were  I  but  already  on  the 
cart;  Were  I  in  the  warm  room  with  all  the  splendour 
and  magnificence!  Yes;  then  something  better,  some- 
thing still  grander,  will  surely  follow,  or  wherefore 
should  they  thus  ornament  me?  Something  better, 
something  still  grander,  must  follow  —  but  what?  Oh, 
how  I  long,  how  I  suffer!  I  do  not  know  myself  what 
is  the  matter  with  me!" 

"Rejoice  in  our  presence!"  said  the  Air  and  the  Sun- 
light; "rejoice  in  thy  own  fresh  youth!" 

But  the  Tree  did  not  rejoice  at  all;  he  grew  and  grew, 
and  was  green  both  winter  and  summer.  People  that 
saw  him  said,  "What  a  fine  tree!"  and  toward  Christ- 
mas he  was  one  of  the  first  that  was  cut  down.  The 


io          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

axe  struck  deep  into  the  very  pith;  the  tree  fell  to  the 
earth  with  a  sigh:  he  felt  a  pang  —  it  was  like  a  swoon; 
he  could  not  think  of  happiness,  for  he  was  sorrowful 
at  being  separated  from  his  home,  from  the  place  where 
he  had  sprung  up.  He  knew  well  that  he  should  never 
see  his  dear  old  comrades,  the  little  bushes  and  flowers 
around  him,  any  more;  perhaps  not  even  the  birds! 
The  departure  was  not  at  all  agreeable. 

The  Tree  only  came  to  himself  when  he  was  unloaded 
in  a  courtyard  with  the  other  trees,  and  heard  a  man 
say,  "That  one  is  splendid!  we  don't  want  the  others." 
Then  two  servants  came  in  rich  livery  and  carried  the 
Fir-tree  into  a  large  and  splendid  drawing-room. 
Portraits  were  hanging  on  the  walls,  and  near  the  white 
porcelain  stove  stood  two  large  Chinese  vases  with 
lions  on  the  covers.  There,  too,  were  large  easy  chairs, 
silken  sofas,  large  tables  full  of  picture-books,  and  full 
of  toys  worth  hundreds  and  hundreds  cf  crowns  — 
at  least  the  children  said  so.  And  the  Fir-tree  was 
stuck  upright  in  a  cask  that  was  filled  with  sand:  but 
no  one  could  see  that  it  was  a  cask,  for  green  cloth  was 
hung  all  around  it,  and  it  stood  on  a  large  gayly  coloured 
carpet.  Oh,  how  the  Tree  quivered!  What  was  to 
happen?  The  servants,  as  well  as  the  young  ladies, 
decorated  it.  On  one  branch  there  hung  little  nets  cut 
out  of  coloured  paper,  and  each  net  was  filled  with 
sugar-plums;  and  among  the  other  boughs  gilded  apples 
and  walnuts  were  suspended,  looking  as  though  they 
had  grown  there,  and  little  blue  and  white  tapers  were 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          n 

placed  among  the  leaves.  Dolls  that  looked  for  all  the 
world  like  men  —  the  Tree  had  never  beheld  such 
before  —  were  seen  among  the  foliage,  and  at  the  very 
top  a  large  star  of  gold  tinsel  was  fixed.  It  was  really 
splendid  —  beyond  description  splendid. 

''  This  evening!"  said  they  all;  "how  it  will  shine 
this  evening!" 

"Oh,"  thought  the  Tree,  "if  the  evening  were  but 
come!  If  the  tapers  were  but  lighted!  And  then  I 
wonder  what  will  happen!  Perhaps  the  other  trees 
from  the  forest  will  come  to  look  at  me!  Perhaps  the 
sparrows  will  beat  against  the  window-panes!  I  won- 
der if  I  shall  take  root  here,  and  winter  and  summer 
stand  covered  with  ornaments!  " 

He  knew  very  much  about  the  matter!  but  he  was 
so  impatient  that  for  sheer  longing  he  got  a  pain  in  his 
back,  and  this  with  trees  is  the  same  thing  as  a  headache 
with  us. 

The  candles  were  now  lighted.  What  brightness! 
What  splendour !  The  Tree  trembled  so  in  every  bough 
that  one  of  the  tapers  set  fire  to  the  foliage.  It  blazed 
up  splendidly. 

"Help!  Help!"  cried  the  young  ladies,  and  they 
quickly  put  out  the  fire. 

Now  the  Tree  did  not  even  dare  tremble.  What  a 
state  he  was  in!  He  was  so  uneasy  lest  he  should  lose 
something  of  his  splendour,  that  he  was  quite  be- 
wildered amidst  the  glare  and  brightness;  when  sud- 
denly both  folding-doors  opened,  and  a  troop  of  children 


12          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

rushed  in  as  if  they  would  upset  the  Tree.  The  older 
persons  followed  quietly;  the  little  ones  stood  quite 
still.  But  it  was  only  for  a  moment;  then  they  shouted 
so  that  the  whole  place  reechoed  with  their  rejoicing; 
they  danced  round  the  tree,  and  one  present  after  the 
other  was  pulled  off . 

"  What  are  they  about?  "  thought  the  Tree.  "  What 
is  to  happen  now?"  And  the  lights  burned  down  to 
the  very  branches,  and  as  they  burned  down  they  were 
put  out,  one  after  the  other,  and  then  the  children  had 
permission  to  plunder  the  tree.  So  they  fell  upon  it 
with  such  violence  that  all  its  branches  cracked;  if  it 
had  not  been  fixed  firmly  in  the  cask,  it  would  certainly 
have  tumbled  down. 

The  children  danced  about  with  their  beautiful  play- 
things: no  one  looked  at  the  Tree  except  the  old  nurse, 
who  peeped  between  the  branches;  but  it  was  only  to 
see  if  there  was  a  fig  or  an  apple  left  that  had  been 
forgotten. 

"A  story!  a  story!"  cried  the  children,  drawing  a 
little  fat  man  toward  the  tree.  He  seated  himself 
under  it,  and  said:  "Now  we  are  in  the  shade,  and  the 
Tree  can  listen,  too.  But  I  shall  tell  only  one  story. 
Now  which  will  you  have:  that  about  Ivedy-Avedy,  or 
about  Klumpy-Dumpy  who  tumbled  downstairs,  and 
yet  after  all  came  to  the  throne  and  married  the 
princess?" 

"Ivedy-Avedy!"  cried  some;  "Klumpy-Dumpy!" 
cried  the  others.  There  was  such  a  bawling  and 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          13 

screaming  —  the  Fir-tree  alone  was  silent,  and  he 
thought  to  himself,  "Am  I  not  to  bawl  with  the  rest? 
—  am  I  to  do  nothing  whatever?"  for  he  was  one  of 
the  company,  and  had  done  what  he  had  to  do. 

And  the  man  told  about  Klumpy-Dumpy  that 
tumbled  down,  who  notwithstanding  came  to  the 
throne,  and  at  last  married  the  princess.  And  the 
children  clapped  their  hands,  and  cried  out,  "Oh,  go  on! 
Do  go  on ! "  They  wanted  to  hear  about  Ivedy-Avedy, 
too,  but  the  little  man  only  told  them  about  Klumpy- 
Dumpy.  The  Fir-tree  stood  quite  still  and  absorbed 
in  thought;  the  birds  in  the  woods  had  never  related  the 
like  of  this.  "Klumpy-Dumpy  fell  downstairs,  and 
yet  he  married  the  princess!  Yes!  Yes!  that's  the 
way  of  the  world!"  thought  the  Fir-tree,  and  believed 
it  all,  because  the  man  who  told  the  story  was  so  good- 
looking.  "Well,  well!  who  knows,  perhaps  I  may  fall 
downstairs,  too,  and  get  a  princess  as  wife!"  And  he 
looked  forward  with  joy  to  the  morrow,  when  he  hoped 
to  be  decked  out  again  with  lights,  playthings,  fruits, 
and  tinsel. 

"I  won't  tremble  to-morrow,"  thought  the  Fir-tree. 
"I  will  enjoy  to  the  full  all  my  splendour.  To-morrow 
I  shall  hear  again  the  story  of  Klumpy-Dumpy,  and 
perhaps  that  of  Ivedy-Avedy,  too."  And  the  whole 
night  the  Tree  stood  still  and  in  deep  thought. 

In  the  morning  the  servant  and  the  housemaid 
came  hi. 

"  Now,  then,  the  splendour  will  begin  again, "  thought 


14          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

the  Fir.  But  they  dragged  him  out  of  the  room,  and 
up  the  stairs  into  the  loft;  and  here  in  a  dark  corner, 
where  no  daylight  could  enter,  they  left  him.  "  What's 
the  meaning  of  this?"  thought  the  Tree.  "What  am 
I  to  do  here?  What  shall  I  hear  now,  I  wonder? " 
And  he  leaned  against  the  wall,  lost  in  reverie.  Time 
enough  had  he,  too,  for  his  reflections;  for  days  and 
nights  passed  on,  and  nobody  came  up;  and  when  at 
last  somebody  did  come,  it  was  only  to  put  some  great 
trunks  in  a  corner  out  of  the  way.  There  stood  the 
Tree  quite  hidden;  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  been  entirely 
forgotten. 

"Tis  now  winter  out  of  doors!"  thought  the  Tree.r 
"The  earth  is  hard  and  covered  with  snow;  men  cannot 
plant  me  now,  and  therefore  I  have  been  put  up  here 
under  shelter  till  the  springtime  comes!  How  thought- 
ful that  is!  How  kind  man  is,  after  all!  If  it  only 
were  not  so  dark  here,  and  so  terribly  lonely!  Not 
even  a  hare.  And  out  in  the  woods  it  was  so  pleasant, 
when  the  snow  was  on  the  ground,  and  the  hare  leaped 
by;  yes  —  even  when  he  jumped  over  me;  but  I  did 
not  like  it  then.  It  is  really  terribly  lonely  here ! " 

"Squeak!  squeak!"  said  a  little  Mouse  at  the  same 
moment,  peeping  out  of  his  hole.  And  then  another 
little  one  came.  They  sniffed  about  the  Fir-tree,  and 
rustled  among  the  branches. 

"It  is  dreadfully  cold,"  said  the  Mouse.  "But  for 
that,  it  would  be  delightful  here,  old  Fir,  wouldn't 
it?" 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          15 

"  I  am  by  no  means  old, "  said  the  Fir-tree.  "  There's 
many  a  one  considerably  older  than  I  am. " 

"Where  do  you  come  from/'  asked  the  Mice;  "and 
what  can  you  do?"  They  were  so  extremely  curious. 
*'Tell  us  about  the  most  beautiful  spot  on  the  earth. 
Have  you  never  been  there?  Were  you  never  in  the 
larder,  where  cheeses  lie  on  the  shelves,  and  hams  hang 
from  above;  where  one  dances  about  on  tallow-candles; 
that  place  where  one  enters  lean,  and  comes  out  again 
fat  and  portly?" 

"I  know  no  such  place,"  said  the  Tree,  "but  I  know 
the  woods,  where  the  sun  shines,  and  where  the  little 
birds  sing. "  And  then  he  told  all  about  his  youth ;  and 
the  little  Mice  had  never  heard  the  like  before;  and 
they  listened  and  said: 

"  Well,  to  be  sure !  How  much  you  have  seen !  How 
happy  you  must  have  been!" 

"I?"  said  the  Fir-tree,  thinking  over  what  he  had 
himself  related.  "Yes,  in  reality  those  were  happy 
times. "  And  then  he  told  about  Christmas  Eve,  when 
he  was  decked  out  with  cakes  and  candles. 

"Oh,"  said  the  little  Mice,  "how  fortunate  you  have 
been,  old  Fir-tree!" 

"I  am  by  no  means  old,"  said  he.  "I  came  from 
the  woods  this  winter;  I  am  in  my  prime,  and  am  only 
rather  short  for  my  age. " 

"What  delightful  stories  you  know!"  said  the  Mice: 
and  the  next  night  they  came  with  four  other  little 
Mice,  who  were  to  hear  what  the  tree  recounted;  and 


*6         CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

the  more  he  related,  the  more  plainly  he  remembered 
all  himself;  and  it  appeared  as  if  those  times  had  really 
been  happy  times.  "But  they  may  still  come  — 
they  may  still  come.  Klumpy-Dumpy  fell  downstairs 
and  yet  he  got  a  princess,"  and  he  thought  at  the 
moment  of  a  nice  little  Birch-tree  growing  out  in  the 
woods;  to  the  Fir,  that  would  be  a  real  charming 
princess. 

"Who  is  Klumpy-Dumpy? "  asked  the  Mice.  3o 
then  the  Fir-tree  told  the  whole  fairy  tale,  for  he  could 
remember  every  single  word  of  it;  and  the  little  Mice 
jumped  for  joy  up  to  the  very  top  of  the  Tree.  Next 
night  two  more  Mice  came,  and  on  Sunday  two  Rats, 
even;  but  they  said  the  stories  were  not  interesting, 
which  vexed  the  little  Mice;  and  they,  too,  now  began 
to  think  them  not  so  very  amusing  either. 

"Do  you  know  only  one  story? "  asked  the  Rats. 

"Only  that  one,"  answered  the  Tree.  "I  heard  it 
on  my  happiest  evening;  but  I  did  not  then  know  how 
happy  I  was. " 

"It  is  a  very  stupid  story.  Don't  you  know  one 
about  bacon  and  tallow  candles?  Can't  you  tell  any 
larder  stories?" 

"No,  "said  the  Tree. 

"Then  good-bye,"  said  the  Rats;  and  they  went 
home. 

At  last  the  little  Mice  stayed  away  also;  and  the 
Tree  sighed:  "After  all,  it  was  very  pleasant  when 
the  sleek  little  Mice  sat  around  me  and  listened  to  what 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          17 

I  told  them.  Now  that  too  is  over.  But  I  will  take 
good  care  to  enjoy  myself  when  I  am  brought  out 
again. " 

But  when  was  that  to  be?  Why,  one  morning  there 
came  a  quantity  of  people  and  set  to  work  in  the  loft. 
The  trunks  were  moved,  the  Tree  was  pulled  out  and 
thrown  —  rather  hard,  it  is  true  —  down  on  the  floor, 
but  a  man  drew  him  toward  the  stairs,  where  the 
daylight  shone. 

"Now  a  merry  life  will  begin  again,"  thought  the 
Tree.  He  felt  the  fresh  air,  the  first  sunbeam  —  and 
now  he  was  out  in  the  courtyard.  All  passed  so  quickly, 
there  was  so  much  going  on  around  him,  that  the  Tree 
quite  forgot  to  look  to  himself.  The  court  adjoined  a 
garden,  and  all  was  in  flower;  the  roses  hung  so  fresh 
and  odorous  over  the  balustrade,  the  lindens  were  in 
blossom,  the  Swallows  flew  by,  and  said,  "Quirre-vit! 
my  husband  is  come!"  but  it  was  not  the  Fir-tree  that 
they  meant. 

"Now,  then,  I  shall  really  enjoy  life,"  said  he,  exult- 
ingly,  and  spread  out  his  branches;  but,  alas!  they  were 
all  withered  and  yellow.  It  was  in  a  corner  that  he 
lay,  among  weeds  and  nettles.  The  golden  star  of 
tinsel  was  still  on  the  top  of  the  Tree,  and  glittered  in 
the  sunshine. 

In  the  courtyard  some  of  the  merry  children  were 
playing  who  had  danced  at  Christmas  round  the  Fir- 
tree,  and  were  so  glad  at  the  sight  of  him.  One  of  the 
youngest  ran  and  tore  off  the  golden  star. 


i8          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"Only  look  what  is  still  on  the  ugly  old  Christmas 
tree!"  said  he,  trampling  on  the  branches,  so  that  they 
all  cracked  beneath  his  feet. 

And  the  Tree  beheld  all  the  beauty  of  the  flowers,  and 
the  freshness  in  the  garden;  he  beheld  himself,  and 
wished  he  had  remained  in  his  dark  corner  in  the  loft; 
he  thought  of  his  first  youth  in  the  woods,  of  the  merry 
Christmas  Eve,  and  of  the  little  Mice  who  had  listened 
with  so  much  pleasure  to  the  story  of  Klumpy-Dumpy. 

* '  'Tis  over  —  'tis  past ! "  said  the  poor  Tree.  "  Had 
I  but  rejoiced  when  I  had  reason  to  do  so!  But  now 
'tis  past,  'tis  past!" 

And  the  gardener's  boy  chopped  the  Tree  into  small 
pieces;  there  was  a  whole  heap  lying  there.  The  wood 
flamed  up  splendidly  under  the  large  brewing  copper, 
and  it  sighed  so  deeply!  Each  sigh  was  like  a  shot. 

The  boys  played  about  in  the  court,  and  the  youngest 
wore  the  gold  star  on  his  breast  which  the  Tree  had  had 
on  the  happiest  evening  of  his  life.  However,  that  was 
over  now  —  the  Tree  gone,  the  story  at  an  end.  All, 
all  was  over;  every  tale  must  end  at  last. 


Ill 

THE  CHRISTMAS  MASQUERADE* 

MARY  E.   WELKINS   FREEMAN 

ON  Christmas  Eve  the  Mayor's  stately  mansion 
presented  a  beautiful  appearance.  There  were 
rows  of  different  coloured  wax  candles  burning  in  every 
window,  and  beyond  them  one  could  see  the  chandeliers 
of  gold  and  crystal  blazing  with  light.  The  fiddles 
were  squeaking  merrily,  and  lovely  little  forms  flew 
past  the  windows  in  time  to  the  music. 

There  were  gorgeous  carpets  laid  from  the  door  to  the 
street,  and  carriages  were  constantly  arriving  and  fresh 
guests  tripping  over  them.  They  were  all  children. 
The  Mayor  was  giving  a  Christmas  Masquerade  to- 
night to  all  the  children  in  the  city,  the  poor  as  well 
as  the  rich.  The  preparation  for  this  ball  had  been 
making  an  immense  sensation  for  the  last  three  months. 
Placards  had  been  up  in  the  most  conspicuous  points  in 
the  city,  and  all  the  daily  newspapers  had  at  least  a 
column  devoted  to  it,  headed  with  "THE  MAYOR'S 
CHRISTMAS  MASQUERADE,"  in  very  large 
letters. 

The  Mayor  had  promised  to  defray  the  expenses  of 

*From  "  The  Pot  of  Gold ,"  copyright  by  Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepherd  Co. 

19 


ao         CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

all  the  poor  children  whose  parents  were  unable  to  do 
so,  and  the  bills  for  their  costumes  were  directed  to  be 
sent  in  to  him. 

Of  course  there  was  great  excitement  among  the 
regular  costumers  of  the  city,  and  they  all  resolved 
to  vie  with  one  another  in  being  the  most  popular,  and 
the  best  patronized  on  this  gala  occasion.  But  the 
placards  and  the  notices  had  not  been  out  a  week  before 
a  new  Costumer  appeared  who  cast  all  the  others  into 
the  shade  directly.  He  set  up  his  shop  on  the  corner 
of  one  of  the  principal  streets,  and  hung  up  his  beautiful 
costumes  in  the  windows.  He  was  a  little  fellow,  not 
much  bigger  than  a  boy  of  ten.  His  cheeks  were  as 
red  as  roses,  and  he  had  on  a  long  curling  wig  as  white 
as  snow.  He  wore  a  suit  of  crimson  velvet  knee- 
breeches,  and  a  little  swallow-tailed  coat  with  beautiful 
golden  buttons.  Deep  lace  ruffles  fell  over  his  slender 
white  hands,  and  he  wore  elegant  knee  buckles  of  glit- 
tering stones.  He  sat  on  a  high  stool  behind  his 
counter  and  served  his  customers  himself;  he  kept  no 
clerk. 

It  did  not  take  the  children  long  to  discover  what 
beautiful  things  he  had,  and  how  superior  he  was  to  the 
other  costumers,  and  they  begun  to  flock  to  his  shop 
immediately,  from  the  Mayor's  daughter  to  the  poor 
ragpicker's.  The  children  were  to  select  their  own 
costumes;  the  Mayor  had  stipulated  that.  It  was  to 
be  a  children's  ball  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 

So  they  decided  to  be  fairies  and  shepherdesses,  and 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          n 

princesses  according  to  their  own  fancies;  and  this  new 
Costumer  had  charming  costumes  to  suit  them. 

It  was  noticeable  that,  for  the  most  part,  the  children 
of  the  rich,  who  had  always  had  everything  they  desired, 
would  choose  the  parts  of  goose-girls  and  peasants  and 
such  like;  and  the  poor  children  jumped  eagerly  at  the 
chance  of  being  princesses  or  fames  for  a  few  hours  in 
their  miserable  lives. 

When  Christmas  Eve  came  and  the  children  flocked 
into  the  Mayor's  mansion,  whether  it  was  owing  to  the 
Costumer's  art,  or  their  own  adaptation  to  the  charac- 
ters they  had  chosen,  it  was  wonderful  how  lifelike  their 
-representations  were.  Those  little  fairies  in  their  short 
skirts  of  silken  gauze,  in  which  golden  sparkles  appeared 
as  they  moved  with  their  little  funny  gossamer  wings, 
like  butterflies,  looked  like  real  fairies.  It  did  not 
seem  possible,  when  they  floated  around  to  the  music, 
half  supported  on  the  tips  of  their  dainty  toes,  half  by 
their  filmy  purple  wings,  their  delicate  bodies  swaying 
in  time,  that  they  could  be  anything  but  fairies.  It 
seemed  absurd  to  imagine  that  they  were  Johnny 
Mullens,  the  washerwoman's  son,  and  Polly  Flinders, 
the  charwoman's  little  girl,  and  so  on. 

The  Mayor's  daughter,  who  had  chosen  the  character 
of  a  goose-girl,  looked  so  like  a  true  one  that  one  could 
hardly  dream  she  ever  was  anything  else.  She  was, 
ordinarily,  a  slender,  dainty  little  lady  rather  tall  for 
her  age.  She  now  looked  very  short  and  stubbed  and 
brown,  just  as  if  she  had  been  accustomed  to  tend  geese 


22          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

in  all  sorts  of  weather.  It  was  so  with  all  the  others  — 
the  Red  Riding-hoods,  the  princesses,  the  Bo-Peeps 
and  with  every  one  of  the  characters  who  came  to  the 
Mayor's  ball;  Red  Riding-hood  looked  round,  with  big, 
frightened  eyes,  all  ready  to  spy  the  wolf,  and  carried 
her  little  pat  of  butter  and  pot  of  honey  gingerly  in  her 
basket;  Bo-Peep's  eyes  looked  red  with  weeping  for  the 
loss  of  her  sheep;  and  the  princesses  swept  about  so 
grandly  in  their  splendid  brocaded  trains,  and  held 
their  crowned  heads  so  high  that  people  half-believed 
them  to  be  true  princesses. 

But  there  never  was  anything  like  the  fun  at  the 
Mayor's  Christmas  ball.  The  fiddlers  fiddled  and 
fiddled,  and  the  children  danced  and  danced  on  the 
beautiful  waxed  floors.  The  Mayor,  with  his  family 
and  a  few  grand  guests,  sat  on  a  dais  covered  with  blue 
velvet  at  one  end  of  the  dancing  hall,  and  watched  the 
sport.  They  were  all  delighted.  The  Mayor's  eldest 
daughter  sat  in  front  and  clapped  her  little  soft  white 
hands.  She  was  a  tall,  beautiful  young  maiden,  and 
wore  a  white  dress,  and  a  little  cap  woven  of  blue  violets 
on  her  yellow  hair.  Her  name  was  Violetta. 

The  supper  was  served  at  midnight  —  and  such  a 
supper!  The  mountains  of  pink  and  white  ices,  and 
the  cakes  with  sugar  castles  and  flower  gardens  on  the 
tops  of  them,  and  the  charming  shapes  of  gold  and 
ruby-coloured  jellies.  There  were  wonderful  bonbons 
which  even  the  Mayor's  daughter  did  not  have  every 
day;  and  all  sorts  of  fruits,  fresh  and  candied.  They 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          23 

had  cowslip  wine  in  green  glasses,  and  elderberry  wine 
ji  red,  and  they  drank  each  other's  health.  The 
glasses  held  a  thimbleful  each;  the  Mayor's  wife  thought 
that  was  all  the  wine  they  ought  to  have.  Under  each 
child's  plate  there  was  a  pretty  present  and  every  one 
had  a  basket  of  bonbons  and  cake  to  carry  home. 

At  four  o'clock  the  fiddlers  put  up  their  fiddles  and 
the  children  went  home;  fairies  and  shepherdesses  and 
pages  and  princesses  all  jabbering  gleefully  about  the 
splendid  time  they  had  had. 

But  in  a  short  time  what  consternation  there  was 
throughout  the  city.  When  the  proud  and  fond  parents 
attempted  to  unbutton  their  children's  dresses,  in  order1 
to  prepare  them  for  bed,  not  a  single  costume  would 
come  off.  The  buttons  buttoned  again  as  fast  as  they 
were  unbuttoned;  even  if  they  pulled  out  a  pin,  in  it 
would  slip  again  in  a  twinkling;  and  when  a  string  was 
untied  it  tied  itself  up  again  into  a  bowknot.  The 
parents  were  dreadfully  frightened.  But  the  children 
were  so  tired  out  they  finally  let  them  go  to  bed  in 
their  fancy  costumes  and  thought  perhaps  they  would 
come  off  better  in  the  morning.  So  Red  Riding-hood 
went  to  bed  in  her  little  red  cloak  holding  fast  to  her 
basket  full  of  dainties  for  her  grandmother,  and  Bo- 
Peep  slept  with  her  crook  in  her  hand. 

The  children  all  went  to  bed  readily  enough,  they 
were  so  very  tired,  even  though  they  had  to  go  in  this 
strange  array.  All  but  the  fairies  —  they  danced  and 
pirouetted  and  would  not  be  still.  *  < 


24          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"  We  want  to  swing  on  the  blades  of  grass, "  they  kept 
saying,  "and  play  hide  and  seek  in  the  lily  cups,  and 
take  a  nap  between  the  leaves  of  the  roses. " 

The  poor  charwomen  and  coal-heavers,  whose 
children  the  fairies  were  for  the  most  part,  stared  at 
them  in  great  distress.  They  did  not  know  what  to  do 
with  these  radiant,  frisky  little  creatures  into  which 
their  Johnnys  and  then-  Pollys  and  Betseys  were  so 
suddenly  transformed.  But  the  fairies  went  to  bed 
quietly  enough  when  daylight  came,  and  were  soon 
fast  asleep. 

There  was  no  further  trouble  till  twelve  o'clock, 
when  all  the  children  woke  up.  Then  a  great  wave  of 
alarm  spread  over  the  city.  Not  one  of  the  costumes 
would  come  off  then.  The  buttons  buttoned  as  fast 
as  they  were  unbuttoned;  the  pins  quilted  themselves 
in  as  fast  as  they  were  pulled  out;  and  the  strings  flev. 
round  like  lightning  and  twisted  themselves  into  bow- 
knots  as  fast  as  they  were  untied. 

And  that  was  not  the  worst  of  it;  every  one  of  the 
children  seemed  to  have  become,  in  reality,  the  char- 
acter which  he  or  she  had  assumed. 

The  Mayor's  daughter  declared  she  was  going  to  tend 
her  geese  out  in  the  pasture,  and  the  shepherdesses 
sprang  out  of  their  little  beds  of  down,  throwing  aside 
their  silken  quilts,  and  cried  that  they  must  go  out  and 
watch theirsheep.  Theprincesses  jumped  up  from  their 
straw  pallets,  and  wanted  to  go  to  court;  and  all  the 
rest  of  them  likewise.  Poor  little  Red  Riding-hood 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          25 

sobbed  and  sobbed  because  she  couldn't  go  and  carry 
her  basket  to  her  grandmother,  and  as  she  didn't  have 
any  grandmother  she  couldn't  go,  of  course,  and  her 
parents  were  very  much  troubled.  It  was  all  so 
mysterious  and  dreadful.  The  news  spread  very 
rapidly  over  the  city,  and  soon  a  great  crowd  gathered 
around  the  new  Costumer's  shop  for  every  one  thought 
he  must  be  responsible  for  all  this  mischief. 

The  shop  door  was  locked;  but  they  soon  battered  it 
down  with  stones.  When  they  rushed  in  the  Costumer 
was  not  there;  he  had  disappeared  with  all  his  wares. 
Then  they  did  not  know  what  to  do.  But  it  was 
evident  that  th?y  must  do  something  before  long  for 
the  state  of  affairs  was  growing  worse  and  worse. 

The  Mayor's  little  daughter  braced  her  back  up 
against  the  tapestried  wall,  and  planted  her  two  feet 
in  their  thick  shoes  firmly.  "I  will  go  and  tend  my 
geese,"  she  kept  crying.  "I  won't  eat  my  breakfast. 
I  won't  go  out  in  the  park.  I  won't  go  to  school.  I'm 
going  to  tend  my  geese  —  I  will,  I  will,  I  will!" 

And  the  princesses  trailed  their  rich  trains  over  the 
rough  unpainted  floors  in  their  parents'  poor  little  huts, 
and  held  their  crowned  heads  very  high  and  demanded 
to  be  taken  to  court.  The  princesses  were  mostly 
geese-girls  when  they  were  their  proper  selves,  and  their 
geese  were  suffering,  and  their  poor  parents  did  not 
know  what  they  were  going  to  do  and  they  wrung  their 
hands  and  wept  as  they  gazed  on  their  gorgeously 
apparelled  children. 


26          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Finally  the  Mayor  called  a  meeting  of  the  Aldermen, 
and  they  all  assembled  in  the  City  Hall.  Nearly  every 
one  of  them  had  a  son  or  a  daughter  who  was  a  chimney- 
sweep, or  a  little  watch-girl,  or  a  shepherdess.  They 
appointed  a  chairman  and  they  took  a  great  many  votes 
and  contrary  votes  but  they  did  not  agree  on  anything, 
until  every  one  proposed  that  they  consult  the  Wise 
Woman.  Then  they  all  held  up  their  hands,  and  voted 
to,  unanimously. 

So  the  whole  board  of  Aldermen  set  out,  walking  by 
twos,  with  the  Mayor  at  their  head,  to  consult  the  Wise 
Woman.  The  Aldermen  were  all  very  fleshy,  and 
carried  gold-headed  canes  which  they  swung  very  high 
at  every  step.  They  held  their  heads  well  back,  and 
their  chins  stiff,  and  whenever  they  met  common  people 
they  sniffed  gently.  They  were  very  imposing. 

The  Wise  Woman  lived  in  a  little  hut  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  city.  She  kept  a  Black  Cat,  except  for 
her,  she  was  all  alone.  She  was  very  old,  and  had 
brought  up  a  great  many  children,  and  she  was  con- 
sidered remarkably  wise. 

But  when  the  Aldermen  reached  her  hut  and  found 
her  seated  by  the  fire,  holding  her  Black  Cat,  a  new 
difficulty  presented  itself.  She  had  always  been  quite 
deaf  and  people  had  been  obliged  to  scream  as  loud  as 
they  could  in  order  to  make  her  hear;  but  lately  she  had 
grown  much  deafer,  and  when  the  Aldermen  attempted 
to  lay  the  case  before  her  she  could  not  hear  a  word, 
in  fact,  she  was  so  very  deaf  that  she  could  not  dis- 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          27 

tinguish  a  tone  below  G-sharp.  The  Aldermen 
screamed  till  they  were  quite  red  in  the  faces,  but  all 
to  no  purpose:  none  of  them  could  get  up  to  G-sharp 
of  course. 

So  the  Aldermen  all  went  back,  swinging  their  gold- 
headed  canes,  and  they  had  another  meeting  in  the 
City  Hall.  Then  they  decided  to  send  the  highest 
Soprano  Singer  in  the  church  choir  to  the  Wise  Woman; 
she  could  sing  up  to  G-sharp  just  as  easy  as  not.  So 
the  high  Soprano  Singer  set  out  for  the  Wise  Woman's 
in  the  Mayor's  coach,  and  the  Aldermen  marched 
behind,  swinging  their  gold-headed  canes. 

The  High  Soprano  Singer  put  her  head  down  close 
to  the  Wise  Woman's  ear,  and  sung  all  about  the 
Christmas  Masquerade  and  the  dreadful  dilemma 
everybody  was  in,  in  G-sharp  —  she  even  went  higher, 
sometimes,  and  the  Wise  Woman  heard  every  word. 
She  nodded  three  times,  and  every  time  she  nodded  she 
looked  wiser. 

"  Go  home,  and  give  'em  a  spoonful  of  castor-oil,  all 
'round,"  she  piped  up;  then  she  took  a  pinch  of  snuff, 
and  wouldn't  say  any  more. 

So  the  Aldermen  went  home,  and  every  one  took  a 
district  and  marched  through  it,  with  a  servant  carry- 
ing an  immense  bowl  and  spoon,  and  every  child  had  to 
take  a  dose  of  castor-oil. 

But  it  didn't  do  a  bit  of  good.  The  children  cried 
and  struggled  when  they  were  forced  to  take  the  castor- 
oil;  but,  two  minutes  afterward,  the  chimney-sweeps 


28          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

were  crying  for  their  brooms,  and  the  princesses  scream- 
ing because  they  couldn't  go  to  court,  and  the  Mayor's 
daughter,  who  had  been  given  a  double  dose,  cried 
louder  and  more  sturdily:  "I  want  to  go  and  tend  my 
geese.  I  will  go  and  tend  my  geese. " 

So  the  Aldermen  took  the  high  Soprano  Singer,  and 
they  consulted  the  Wise  Woman  again.  She  was 
taking  a  nap  this  time,  and  the  Singer  had  to  sing  up 
to  B-flat  before  she  could  wake  her.  Then  she  was 
very  cross  and  the  Black  Cat  put  up  his  back  and  spit 
at  the  Aldermen. 

"Give  'em  a  spanking  all  'round,"  she  snapped  out, 
"and  if  that  don't  work  put  'em  to  bed  without  their 
supper. " 

Then  the  Aldermen  marched  back  to  try  that;  and 
all  the  children  in  the  city  were  spanked,  and  when  that 
didn't  do  any  good  they  were  put  to  bed  without  any 
supper.  But  the  next  morning  when  they  woke  up 
they  were  worse  than  ever. 

The  Mayor  and  Aldermen  were  very  indignant,  and 
considered  that  they  had  been  imposed  upon  and 
insulted.  So  they  set  out  for  the  Wise  Woman  again, 
with  the  high  Soprano  Singer. 

She  sang  in  G-sharp  how  the  Aldermen  and  the 
Mayor  considered  her  an  impostor,  and  did  not  think 
she  was  wise  at  all,  and  they  wished  her  to  take  her 
Black  Cat  and  move  beyond  the  limits  of  the  city. 
She  sang  it  beautifully;  it  sounded  like  the  very  finest 
Italian  opera  music. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          29 

" Deary  me,"  piped  the  Wise  Woman,  when  she  had 
finished,  "how  very  grand  these  gentlemen  are." 
Her  Black  Cat  put  up  his  back  and  spit. 

"Five  times  one  Black  Cat  are  five  Black  Cats," 
said  the  Wise  Woman.  And  directly  there  were  five 
Black  Cats  spitting  and  miauling. 

"Five  times  five  Black  Cats  are  twenty-five  Black 
Cats. "  And  then  there  were  twenty-five  of  the  angry 
little  beasts. 

"Five  times  twenty-five  Black  Cats  are  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  Black  Cats,"  added  the  Wise  Woman 
with  a  chuckle. 

Then  the  Mayor  and  the  Aldermen  and  the  high 
Soprano  Singer  fled  precipitately  out  the  door  and  back 
to  the  city.  One  hundred  and  twenty-five  Black  Cats 
had  seemed  to  fill  the  Wise  Woman's  hut  full,  and  when 
they  all  spit  and  miauled  together  it  was  dreadful. 
The  visitors  could  not  wait  for  her  to  multiply  Black 
Cats  any  longer. 

As  winter  wore  on  and  spring  came,  the  condition  of 
things  grew  more  intolerable.  Physicians  had  been 
consulted,  who  advised  that  the  children  should  be 
allowed  to  follow  their  own  bents,  for  fear  of  injury 
to  their  constitutions.  So  the  rich  Aldermen's  daugh- 
ters were  actually  out  in  the  fields  herding  sheep,  and 
their  sons  sweeping  chimneys  or  carrying  newspapers; 
and  while  the  poor  charwomen's  and  coal-heavers, 
children  spent  their  time  like  princesses  and  fairies. 
Such  a  topsy-turvy  state  of  society  was  shocking. 


30          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

While  the  Mayor's  little  daughter  was  tending  geese 
out  in  the  meadow  like  any  common  goose-girl,  her 
pretty  elder  sister,  Violetta,  felt  very  sad  about  it  and 
used  often  to  cast  about  in  her  mind  for  some  way  of 
relief. 

When  cherries  were  ripe  in  spring,  Violetta  thought 
she  would  ask  the  Cherry-man  about  it.  She  thought 
the  Cherry-man  quite  wise.  He  was  a  very  pretty 
young  fellow,  and  he  brought  cherries  to  sell  in  graceful 
little  straw  baskets  lined  with  moss.  So  she  stood  in 
the  kitchen  door  one  morning  and  told  him  all  about 
the  great  trouble  that  had  come  upon  the  city.  He 
listened  in  great  astonishment;  he  had  never  heard  of 
it  before.  He  lived  several  miles  out  in  the  country. 

"How  did  the  Costumer  look? "he  asked  respectfully; 
he  thought  Violetta  the  most  beautiful  lady  on  earth. 

Then  Violetta  described  the  Costumer,  and  told  him 
of  the  unavailing  attempts  that  had  been  made  to  find 
him.  There  were  a  great  many  detectives  out,  con- 
stantly at  work. 

" I  know  where  he  is! "  said  the  Cherry-man.  " He's 
up  in  one  of  my  cherry-trees.  He's  been  living  there 
ever  since  cherries  were  ripe,  and  he  won't  come  down." 

Then  Violetta  ran  and  told  her  father  in  great  excite- 
ment, and  he  at  once  called  a  meeting  of  the  Aldermen, 
and  in  a  few  hours  half  the  city  was  on  the  road  to  the 
Cherry-man's. 

He  had  a  beautiful  orchard  of  cherry-trees  all  laden 
with  fruit.  And,  sure  enough  in  one  of  the  largest, 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          31 

way  up  amongst  the  topmost  branches,  sat  the  Cos- 
tumer  in  his  red  velvet  and  short  clothes  and  his  dia- 
mond knee-buckles.  He  looked  down  between  the 
green  boughs.  "Good-morning,  friends!"  he  shouted. 

The  Aldermen  shook  their  gold-headed  canes  at  him, 
and  the  people  danced  round  the  tree  in  a  rage.  Then 
they  began  to  climb.  But  they  soon  found  that  to  be 
impossible.  As  fast  as  they  touched  a  hand  or  foot 
to  a  tree,  back  it  flew  with  a  jerk  exactly  as  if  the  tree 
pushed  it.  They  tried  a  ladder,  but  the  ladder  fell  back 
the  moment  it  touched  the  tree,  and  lay  sprawling  upon 
the  ground.  Finally,  they  brought  axes  and  thought 
they  could  chop  the  tree  down,  Costumer  and  all;  but 
the  wood  resisted  the  axes  as  if  it  were  iron,  and  only 
dented  them,  receiving  no  impression  itself. 

Meanwhile,  the  Costumer  sat  up  in  the  tree,  eating 
cherries  and  throwing  the  stones  down.  Finally  he 
stood  up  on  a  stout  branch,  and,  looking  down, 
addressed  the  people. 

"It's  of  no  use,  your  trying  to  accomplish  anything 
in  this  way,"  said  he;  "you'd  better  parley.  I'm 
willing  to  come  to  terms  with  you,  and  make  every- 
thing right  on  two  conditions. " 

The  people  grew  quiet  then,  and  the  Mayor  stepped 
forward  as  spokesman,  "Name  your  two  conditions," 
said  he  rather  testily.  "  You  own,  tacitly,  that  you  are 
the  cause  of  all  this  trouble. " 

"Well"  said  the  Costumer,  reaching  out  for  a  hand- 
ful of  cherries,  "this  Christmas  Masquerade  of  yours 


32          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

was  a  beautiful  idea;  but  you  wouldn't  do  it  every  year, 
and  your  successors  might  not  do  it  at  all.  I  want 
those  poor  children  to  have  a  Christmas  every  year. 
My  first  condition  is  that  every  poor  child  in  the  city 
hangs  its  stocking  for  gifts  in  the  City  Hall  on  every 
Christmas  Eve,  and  gets  it  filled,  too.  I  want  the 
resolution  filed  and  put  away  in  the  city  archives. " 

"We  agree  to  the  first  condition!"  cried  the  people 
with  one  voice,  without  waiting  for  the  Mayor  and 
Aldermen. 

"The  second  condition,"  said  the  Costumer,  "is  that 
this  good  young  Cherry-man  here  has  the  Mayor's 
daughter,  Violetta,  for  his  wife.  He  has  been  kind  to 
me,  letting  me  live  in  his  cherry-tree  and  eat  his  cherries 
and  I  want  to  reward  him. " 

"We  consent,"  cried  all  the  people;  but  the  Mayor, 
though  he  was  so  generous,  was  a  proud  man.  "I  will 
not  consent  to  the  second  condition, "  he  cried  angrily. 

"Very  well,"  replied  the  Costumer,  picking  some 
more  cherries,  "then  your  youngest  daughter  tends 
geese  the  rest  of  her  life,  that's  all. " 

The  Mayor  was  in  great  distress;  but  the  thought  of 
his  youngest  daughter  being  a  goose-girl  all  her  life  was 
too  much  for  him.  He  gave  in  at  last. 

"Now  go  home  and  take  the  costumes  off  your 
children,"  said  the  Costumer,  "and  leave  me  in  peace 
to  eat  cherries. " 

Then  the  people  hastened  back  to  the  city,  and  found, 
to  their  great  delight,  that  the  costumes  would  come 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          33 

off.  The  pins  stayed  out,  the  buttons  stayed  unbut- 
toned, and  the  strings  stayed  untied.  The  children  were 
dressed  in  their  own  proper  clothes  and  were  their  own 
proper  selves  once  more.  The  shepherdesses  and  the 
chimney-sweeps  came  home,  and  were  washed  and 
dressed  in  silks  and  velvets,  and  went  to  embroidering 
and  playing  lawn-tennis.  And  the  princesses  and  the 
fairies  put  on  their  own  suitable  dresses,  and  went  about 
their  useful  employments.  There  was  great  rejoicing  in 
every  home.  Violetta  thought  she  had  never  been  so 
happy,  now  that  her  dear  little  sister  was  no  longer  a 
goose-girl,  but  her  own  dainty  little  lady-self. 

The  resolution  to  provide  every  poor  child  in  the  city 
with  a  stocking  full  of  gifts  on  Christmas  was  solemnly 
filed,  and  deposited  in  the  city  archives,  and  was 
never  broken. 

Violetta  was  married  to  the  Cherry-man,  and  all  the 
children  came  to  the  wedding,  and  strewed  flowers  in 
her  path  till  her  feet  were  quite  hidden  in  them.  The 
Costumer  had  mysteriously  disappeared  from  the 
cherry-tree  the  night  before,  but  he  left  at  the  foot  some 
beautiful  wedding  presents  for  the  bride  —  a  silver 
service  with  a  pattern  of  cherries  engraved  on  it,  and  a 
set  of  china  with  cherries  on  it,  in  hand  painting,  and 
a  white  satin  robe,  embroidered  with  cherries  down 
the  front. 


IV 

THE  SHEPHERDS  AND  THE  ANGELS 

ADAPTED    FROM    THE    BIBLE 

AND  there  were  shepherds  in  the  same  country 
JT\.  abiding  in  the  field,  and  keeping  watch  by  night 
over  their  flock.  And  an  angel  of  the  Lord  stood  by 
them  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shone  round  about, 
them:  and  they  were  sore  afraid.  And  the  angel  said 
unto  them,  Be  not  afraid;  for,  behold,  I  bring  you  good 
tidings  of  great  joy  which  shall  be  to  all  the  people :  for 
there  is  born  to  you  this  day  in  the  city  of  David  a 
Saviour,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord.  And  this  is  the  sign 
unto  you;  ye  shall  find  a  babe  wrapped  in  swaddling 
clothes,  and  lying  in  a  manger.  And  suddenly  there 
was  with  the  angel  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host 
praising  God  and  saying: 

Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 
And  on  earth  peace, 
Good  will  toward  men. 

And  it  came  to  pass,  when  the  angels  went  away  from 
them  into  heaven,  the  shepherds  said  one  to  another, 
Let  us  now  go  even  unto  Bethlehem,  and  see  this  thing 
that  is  come  to  pass,  which  the  Lord  hath  made  known 

34 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          35 

unto  us.  And  they  came  with  haste,  and  found  Mary 
and  Joseph  and  the  babe  lying  in  the  manger.  And 
when  they  saw  it,  they  made  known  concerning  the 
saying  which  was  spoken  to  them  about  this  child. 
And  all  that  heard  it  wondered  at  the  things  which 
were  spoken  unto  them  by  the  shepherds.  But  Mary 
kept  all  these  sayings,  pondering  them  in  her  heart. 
And  the  shepherds  returned  glorifying  and  praising 
God  for  all  the  things  that  they  had  heard  and  seen, 
even  as  it  was  spoken  unto  them. 

And  when  eight  days  were  fulfilled  his  name  was 
called 

JESUS 


THE  TELLTALE  TILE* 

OLIVE   THORNE   MILLER 

JT  BEGINS  with  a  bit  of  gossip  of  a  neighbour  who 
had  come  in  to  see  Miss  Bennett,  and  was  telling 
her  about  a  family  who  had  lately  moved  into  the  place 
and  were  in  serious  trouble.  "And  they  do  say  she'll 
have  to  go  to  the  poorhouse, "  she  ended. 

"To  the  poorhouse!  how  dreadful!  And  the  chil- 
dren, too?"  and  Miss  Bennett  shuddered. 

"Yes;  unless  somebody '11  adopt  them,  and  that's 
not  very  likely.  Well,  I  must  go,"  the  visitor  went 
on,  rising.  "I  wish  I  could  do  something  for  her,  but, 
with  my  houseful  of  children,  I've  got  use  for  every 
penny  I  can  rake  and  scrape. " 

"I'm  sure  I  have,  with  only  myself,"  said  Miss 
Bennett,  as  she  closed  the  door.  "I'm  sure  I  have," 
she  repeated  to  herself  as  she  resumed  her  knitting; 
"it's  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  make  ends  meet,  scrimping 
as  I  do,  not  to  speak  of  laying  up  a  cent  for  sickness 
and  old  age. " 

"But  the  poorhouse!"  she  said  again.  "I  wish  I 
could  help  her!"  and  the  needles  flew  in  and  out,  hi  and 
out,  faster  than  ever,  as  she  turned  this  over  in  her 

*From  "  Kristy's  Queer  Christmas,"  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  1904. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          37 

mind.  "I  might  give  up  something,"  she  said  at  last, 
"though  I  don't  know  what,  unless  —  unless,"  she  said 
slowly,  thinking  of  her  one  luxury,  "unless  I  give  up 
my  tea,  and  it  don't  seem  as  if  I  could  do  that. " 

Some  time  the  thought  worked  hi  her  mind,  and 
finally  she  resolved  to  make  the  sacrifice  of  her  only 
indulgence  for  six  months,  and  send  the  money  to  her 
suffering  neighbour,  Mrs.  Stanley,  though  she  had 
never  seen  her,  and  she  had  only  heard  she  was  in 
want. 

How  much  of  a  sacrifice  that  was  you  can  hardly 
guess,  you,  Kristy,  who  have  so  many  luxuries. 

That  evening  Mrs.  Stanley  was  surprised  by  a  small 
gift  of  money  "from  a  friend,"  as  was  said  on  the  en- 
velope containing  it. 

"Who  sent  it?"  she  asked,  from  the  bed  where  she 
was  lying. 

"Miss  Bennett  told  me  not  to  tell,"  said  the  boy, 
unconscious  that  he  had  already  told. 

The  next  day  Miss  Bennett  sat  at  the  window  knit- 
ting, as  usual  —  for  her  constant  contribution  to  the 
poor  fund  of  the  church  was  a  certain  number  of  stock- 
ings and  mittens  —  when  she  saw  a  young  girl  coming 
up  to  the  door  of  the  cottage. 

"Who  can  that  be?"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  never 
saw  her  before.  Come  in!"  she  called,  in  answer  to  a 
knock.  The  girl  entered,  and  walked  up  to  Miss 
Bennett. 

"Are  you  Miss  Bennett?"  she  asked. 


38          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Bennett  with  an  amused  smile 

"Well,  I'm  Hetty  Stanley." 

Miss  Bennett  started,  and  her  colour  grew  a  little 
brighter. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Hetty,"  she  said-  "won't  you 
sit  down?" 

"Yes,  if  you  please,"  said  Hetty,  taking  a  chair 
near  her. 

"I  came  to  tell  you  how  much  we  love  you 
for  — 

"Oh,  don't!  don't  say  any  more!"  interrupted  Miss 
Bennett;  "never  mind  that!  Tell  me  about  your 
mother  and  your  baby  brother." 

This  was  an  interesting  subject,  and  they  talked 
earnestly  about  it.  The  time  passed  so  quickly  that, 
before  she  knew  it,  she  had  been  in  the  house  an  hour. 
When  she  went  away  Miss  Bennett  asked  her  to  come 
again,  a  thing  she  had  never  been  known  to  do  betorer 
for  she  was  not  fond  of  young  people  in  general. 

"But,  then,  Hetty's  different,"  she  said  to  herself, 
when  wondering  at  her  own  interest. 

"Did  you  thank  kind  Miss  Bennett?"  was  her 
mother's  question  as  Hetty  opened  the  door. 

Hetty  stopped  as  if  struck,  "Why,  no!  I  don't 
think  I  did." 

"And  stayed  so  long,  too?  Whatever  did  you  do? 
I've  heard  she  isn't  fond  of  people  generally." 

"We  talked;  and  —  I  think  she's  ever  so  nice.  She 
asked  me  to  come  again;  may  I?  " 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          39 

"Of  course  you  may,  if  she  cares  to  have  you.  I 
should  be  glad  to  do  something  to  please  her. " 

That  visit  of  Hetty's  was  the  first  of  a  long  series. 
Almost  every  day  she  found  her  way  to  the  lonely 
cottage,  where  a  visitor  rarely  came,  and  a  strange 
intimacy  grew  up  between  the  old  and  the  young. 
Hetty  learned  of  her  friend  to  knit,  and  many  an  hour 
they  spent  knitting  while  Miss  Bennett  ransacked  her 
memory  for  stories  to  tell.  And  then,  one  day,  she 
brought  down  from  a  big  chest  in  the  garret  two  of  the 
books  she  used  to  have  when  she  was  young,  and  let 
Hetty  look  at  them. 

One  was  "Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,"  and  the  other 
"  Scottish  Chiefs. "  Poor  Hetty  had  not  the  dozens  of 
books  you  have,  and  these  were  treasures  indeed. 
She  read  them  to  herself,  and  she  read  them  aloud  to 
Miss  Bennett,  who,  much  to  her  own  surprise,  found 
her  interest  almost  as  eager  as  Hetty's. 

All  this  time  Christmas  was  drawing  near,  and  strange, 
unusual  feelings  began  to  stir  in  Miss  Bennett's 
heart,  though  generally  she  did  not  think  much  about 
that  happy  time.  She  wanted  to  make  Hetty  a  happy 
day.  Money  she  had  none,  so  she  went  into  the  garret, 
where  her  youthful  treasures  had  long  been  hidden. 
From  the  chest  from  which  she  had  taken  the  books 
she  now  took  a  small  box  of  light-coloured  wood,  with  a 
transferred  engraving  on  the  cover.  With  a  sigh  — 
for  the  sight  of  it  brought  up  old  memories  —  Miss 
Bennett  lifted  the  cover  by  its  loop  of  ribbon,  took  out 


40          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

a  package  of  old  letters,  and  went  downstairs  with  the 
box,  taking  also  a  few  bits  of  bright  silk  from  a  bundle 
in  the  chest. 

"I  can  fit  it  up  for  a  workbox,"  she  said,  "and  I'm 
sure  Hetty  will  like  it. " 

For  many  days  after  this  Miss  Bennett  had  her 
secret  work,  which  she  carefully  hid  when  she  saw 
Hetty  coming.  Slowly,  in  this  way,  she  made  a  pretty 
needle-book,  a  tiny  pincushion,  and  an  emery  bag  like 
a  big  strawberry.  Then  from  her  own  scanty  stock 
she  added  needles,  pins,  thread,  and  her  only  pair  of 
small  scissors,  scoured  to  the  last  extreme  of  brightness. 
One  thing  only  she  had  to  buy  —  a  thimble,  and  that 
she  bought  for  a  penny,  of  brass  so  bright  it  was  quite 
as  handsome  as  gold. 

Very  pretty  the  little  box  looked  when  full;  in  the 
bottom  lay  a  quilted  lining,  which  had  always  been 
there,  and  upon  this  the  fittings  she  had  made.  Be- 
sides this,  Miss  Bennett  knit  a  pair  of  mittens  for  each 
of  Hetty's  brothers  and  sisters. 

The  happiest  girl  in  town  on  Christmas  morning  was 
Hetty  Stanley.  To  begin  with,  she  had  the  delight  of 
giving  the  mittens  to  the  children,  and  when  she  ran 
over  to  tell  Miss  Bennett  how  pleased  they  were,  she 
was  surprised  by  the  present  of  the  odd  little  workbox 
and  its  pretty  contents. 

Christmas  was  over  all  too  soon,  and  New  Year's, 
and  it  was  about  the  middle  of  January  that  the  time 
came  which,  all  her  life,  Miss  Bennett  had  dreaded  — 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          41 

the  time  when  she  should  be  helpless.  She  had  not 
money  enough  to  hire  a  girl,  and  so  the  only  thing  she 
could  imagine  when  that  day  should  come  was  her 
special  horror  —  the  poorhouse. 

But  that  good  deed  of  hers  had  already  borne  fruit, 
and  was  still  bearing.  When  Hetty  came  over  one  day, 
and  found  her  dear  friend  lying  on  the  floor  as  if  dead, 
she  was  dreadfully  frightened,  of  course,  but  she  ran 
after  the  neighbours  and  the  doctor,  and  bustled  about 
the  house  as  if  she  belonged  to  it. 

Miss  Bennett  was  not  dead  —  she  had  a  slight  stroke 
of  paralysis;  and  though  she  was  soon  better,  and 
would  be  able  to  talk,  and  probably  to  knit,  and 
possibly  to  get  about  the  house,  she  would  never  be  able 
to  live  alone  and  do  everything  for  herself,  as  she  had 
done. 

So  the  doctor  told  the  neighbours  who  came  in  to 
nelp,  and  so  Hetty  heard,  as  she  listened  eagerly 
for  news. 

"Of  course  she  can't  live  here  any  longer;  she'll  have 
to  go  to  a  hospital, "  said  one  woman. 

"Or  to  the  poorhouse,  more  likely,"  said  another. 

"She'll  hate  that,"  said  the  first  speaker.  "I've 
heard  her  shudder  over  the  poorhouse. " 

"She  shall  never  go  there!"  declared  Hetty,  with 
blazing  eyes. 

"Hoity-toity!  who's  to  prevent?"  asked  the  second 
speaker,  turning  a  look  of  disdain  on  Hetty. 

"I  am,"  was  the  fearless  answer.    "I  know  all 


42          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Miss  Bennett's  ways,  and  I  can  take  care  of  her,  and 
I  will,"  went  on  Hetty  indignantly;  and  turning  sud- 
denly, she  was  surprised  to  find  Miss  Bennett's  eyes 
fixed  on  her  with  an  eager,  questioning  look. 

"There!  she  understands!  she's  better!"  cried 
Hetty.  "Mayn't  I  stay  and  take  care  of  you,  dear 
Miss  Bennett?  "  she  asked,  running  up  to  the  bed. 

"Yes,  you  may,"  interrupted  the  doctor,  seeing  the 
look  in  his  patient's  face;  "but  you  mustn't  agitate  her 
now.  And  now,  my  good  women"  —  turning  to  the 
others  —  "I  think  she  can  get  along  with  her  young 
friend  here,  whom  I  happen  to  know  is  a  womanly 
young  girl,  and  will  be  attentive  and  careful. " 

They  took  the  hint  and  went  away,  and  the  doctor 
gave  directions  to  Hetty  what  to  do,  telling  her  she 
must  not  leave  Miss  Bennett.  So  she  was  now  regularly 
installed  as  nurse  and  housekeeper. 

Days  and  weeks  rolled  by.  Miss  Bennett  was  able 
to  be  up  in  her  chair,  to  talk  and  knit,  and  to  walk 
about  the  house,  but  was  not  able  to  be  left  alone. 
Indeed,  she  had  a  horror  of  being  left  alone;  she  could 
not  bear  Hetty  out  of  her  sight,  and  Hetty's  mother 
was  very  willing  to  spare  her,  for  she  had  many  mouths 
to  fill.  ' 

To  provide  food  for  two  out  of  what  had  been 
scrimping  for  one  was  a  problem;  but  Miss  Bennett  ate 
very  little,  and  she  did  not  resume  her  tea  so  they 
managed  to  get  along  and  not  really  suffer. 

One  day  Hetty  sat  by  the  fire  with  her  precious  box 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          43 

on  her  knee,  which  she  was  putting  to  rights  for  the 
twentieth  time.  The  box  was  empty,  and  her  sharp 
young  eyes  noticed  a  little  dust  on  the  silk  lining. 

"I  think  I'll  take  this  out  and  dust  it,"  she  said  to 
Miss  Bennett,  "if  you  don't  mind. " 

"Do  as  you  like  with  it,"  answered  Miss  Bennett; 
"it  is  yours." 

So  she  carefully  lifted  the  silk,  which  stuck  a  little. 

"Why,  here's  something  under  it,"  she  said  —  "an 
old  paper,  and  it  has  writing  on. " 

"Bring  it  to  me,"  said  Miss  Bennett;  "perhaps  it's 
a  letter  I  have  forgotten. " 

Hetty  brought  it. 

"Why,  it's  father's  writing!"  said  Miss  Bennett, 
looking  closely  at  the  faded  paper;  "and  what  can  it 
mean?  I  never  saw  it  before.  It  says,  'Look,  and 
ye  shall  find '  —  that's  a  Bible  text.  And  what  is  this 
under  it?  'A  word  to  the  wise  is  sufficient.'  I  don't 
understand  —  he  must  have  put  it  there  himself,  for 
I  never  took  that  lining  out  —  I  thought  it  was  fast- 
ened. What  can  it  mean?"  and  she  pondered  over 
it  long,  and  all  day  seemed  absent-minded. 

After  tea,  when  they  sat  before  the  kitchen  fire,  as 
they  always  did,  with  only  the  firelight  flickering  and 
dancing  on  the  walls  while  they  knitted,  or  told  stories, 
or  talked,  she  told  Hetty  about  her  father:  that  they 
had  lived  comfortably  in  this  house,  which  he  built, 
and  that  everybody  supposed  that  he  had  plenty  of 
money,  and  would  leave  enough  to  take  care  of  his  only 


44         CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

child,  but  that  when  he  died  suddenly  nothing  had  been 
found,  and  nothing  ever  had  been,  from  that  day  to 
this. 

"Part  of  the  place  I  let  to  John  Thompson,  Hetty, 
and  that  rent  is  all  I  have  to  live  on.  I  don't  know 
what  makes  me  think  of  old  times  so  to-night. " 

"I  know,"  said  Hetty;  "it's  that  paper,  and  I  know 
what  it  reminds  me  of, "  she  suddenly  shouted,  in  a  way 
very  unusual  with  her.  "It's  that  tile  over  there," 
and  she  jumped  up  and  ran  to  the  side  of  the  fireplace, 
and  put  her  hand  on  the  tile  she  meant. 

On  each  side  of  the  fireplace  was  a  row  of  tiles.  They 
were  Bible  subjects,  and  Miss  Bennett  had  often  told 
Hetty  the  story  of  each  one,  and  also  the  stories  she 
used  to  make  up  about  them  when  she  was  young. 
The  one  Hetty  had  her  hand  on  now  bore  the  picture 
of  a  woman  standing  before  a  closed  door,  and  below 
her  the  words  of  the  yellow  bit  of  paper:  "Look,  and 
ye  shall  find." 

"I  always  felt  there  was  something  different  about 
that,"  said  Hetty  eagerly,  "and  you  know  you  told 
me  your  father  talked  to  you  about  it  —  about  what 
to  seek  in  the  world  when  he  was  gone  away,  and  other 
things." 

"Yes,  so  he  did,"  said  Miss  Bennett  thoughtfully; 
"come  to  think  of  it,  he  said  a  great  deal  about  it,  and 
in  a  meaning  way.  I  don't  understand  it,"  she  said 
slowly,  turning  it  over  in  her  mind. 

"I  do!"  cried  Hetty,  enthusiastically.    "I  believe 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES         45 

you  are  to  seek  here!  I  believe  it's  loose!"  and  she 
tried  to  shake  it.  "It  is  loose!"  she  cried  excitedly. 
"Oh,  Miss  Bennett,  may  I  take  it  out?" 

Miss  Bennett  had  turned  deadly  pale.  "Yes,"  she 
gasped,  hardly  knowing  what  she  expected,  or  dared 
to  hope. 

A  sudden  push  from  Hetty's  strong  fingers,  and  the 
tile  slipped  out  at  one  side  and  fell  to  the  floor.  Behind 
it  was  an  opening  into  the  brickwork.  Hetty  thrust 
in  her  hand. 

"There's  something  in  there!"  she  said  in  an  awed 
tone. 

"A  light!"  said  Miss  Bennett  hoarsely. 

There  was  not  a  candle  in  the  house,  but  Hetty 
seized  a  brand  from  the  fire,  and  held  it  up  and 
looked  in. 

"It  looks  like  bags  — tied  up,"  she  cried.  "Oh, 
come  here  yourself!" 

The  old  woman  hobbled  over  and  thrust  her  hand 
into  the  hole,  bringing  out  what  was  once  a  bag,  but 
which  crumpled  to  pieces  in  her  hands,  and  with  it  — 
oh,  wonder!  —  a  handful  of  gold  pieces,  which  fell  with 
a  jingle  on  the  hearth,  and  rolled  every  way. 

"  My  father's  money !  Oh,  Hetty ! "  was  all  she  could 
say,  and  she  seized  a  chair  to  keep  from  falling,  while 
Hetty  was  nearly  wild,  and  talked  like  a  crazy  person. 

"Oh,  goody!  goody!  now  you  can  have  things  to  eat! 
and  we  can  have  a  candle!  and  you  won't  have  to  go 
to  the  poorhousel" 


46          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"No,  indeed,  you  dear  child !"  cried  Miss  Bennett 
who  had  found  her  voice.  "Thanks  to  you  —  you 
blessing!  —  I  shall  be  comfortable  now  the  rest  of 
my  days.  And  you!  oh!  I  shall  never  forget  you! 
Through  you  has  everything  good  come  to  me. " 

"Oh,  but  you  have  been  so  good  to  me,  dear  Miss 
Bennett!" 

"I  should  never  have  guessed  it,  you  precious  child! 
If  it  had  not  been  for  your  quickness  I  should  have  died 
and  never  found  it. " 

"And  if  you  hadn't  given  me  the  box,  it  might  have 
rusted  away  in  that  chest. " 

"Thank  God  for  everything,  child!  Take  money 
out  of  my  purse  and  go  buy  a  candle.  We  need  not 
save  it  for  bread  now.  Oh,  child!"  she  interrupted 
herself,  "do  you  know,  we  shall  have  everything  we 
want  to-morrow.  Go!  Go!  I  want  to  see  how  much 
there  is." 

The  candle  bought,  the  gold  was  taken  out  and 
counted,  and  proved  to  be  more  than  enough  to  give 
Miss  Bennett  a  comfortable  income  without  touching 
the  principal.  It  was  put  back,  and  the  tile  replaced, 
as  the  safest  place  to  keep  it  till  morning,  when  Miss 
Bennett  intended  to  put  it  into  a  bank. 

But  though  they  went  to  bed,  there  was  not  a  wink 
of  sleep  for  Miss  Bennett,  for  planning  what  she  would 
do.  There  were  a  thousand  things  she  wanted  to  do 
first.  To  get  clothes  for  Hetty,  to  brighten  up  the  old 
house,  to  hire  a  girl  to  relieve  Hetty,  so  that  the  dear 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          47 

child  should  go  to  school,  to  train  her  into  a  noble 
woman  —  all  her  old  ambitions  and  wishes  for  herself 
sprang  into  life  for  Hetty.  For  not  a  thought  of  her 
future  life  was  separate  from  Hetty. 

In  a  very  short  time  everything  was  changed  in 
Miss  Bennett's  cottage.  She  had  publicly  adopted 
Hetty,  and  announced  her  a.s  her  heir.  A  girl  had  been 
installed  in  the  kitchen,  and  Hetty,  in  pretty  new 
clothes,  had  begun  school.  Fresh  paint  inside  and  out, 
with  many  new  comforts,  made  the  old  house  charming 
and  bright.  But  nothing  could  change  the  pleasant 
and  happy  relations  between  the  two  friends,  and  a 
more  contented  and  cheerful  household  could  not  be 
found  anywhere. 

Happiness  is  a  wonderful  doctor  and  Miss  Bennett 
grew  so  much  better,  that  she  could  travel,  and  when 
Hetty  had  finished  school  days,  they  saw  a  little  of  the 
world  before  they  settled  down  to  a  quiet,  useful  life. 

"Every  comfort  on  earth  I  owe  to  you,"  said  Hetty, 
one  day,  when  Miss  Bennett  had  proposed  some  new 
thing  to  add  to  her  enjoyment. 

"Ah,  dear  Hetty!  how  much  do  I  owe  to  you!  But 
for  you,  I  should,  no  doubt,  be  at  this  moment  a  shiver- 
ing pauper  in  that  terrible  poorhouse,  while  some  one 
else  would  be  living  in  this  dear  old  house.  And  it  all 
comes/7  she  added  softly,  aof  that  one  unselfish 
thought,  of  that  one  self-denial  for  others. " 


VI 

LITTLE  GIRL'S  CHRISTMAS 

WINNIFRED  E.    LINCOLN 

IT  WAS  Christmas  Eve,  and  Little  Girl  had  just 
hung  up  her  stocking  by  the  fireplace  —  right  where 
it  would  be  all  ready  for  Santa  when  he  slipped  down 
the  chimney.  She  knew  he  was  coming,  because  — 
well,  because  it  was  Christmas  Eve,  and  because  he 
always  had  come  to  leave  gifts  for  her  on  all  the  other 
Christmas  Eves  that  she  could  remember,  and  because 
she  had  seen  his  pictures  everywhere  down  town  that 
afternoon  when  she  was  out  with  Mother. 

Still,  she  wasn't  just  satisfied.  'Way  down  in  her 
heart  she  was  a  little  uncertain  —  you  see,  when  you 
have  never  really  and  truly  seen  a  person  with  your 
very  own  eyes,  it's  hard  to  feel  as  if  you  exactly  believed 
in  him  —  even  though  that  person  always  has  left 
beautiful  gifts  for  you  every  time  he  has  come. 

"Oh,  he'll  come,"  said  Little  Girl;  "I  just  know  he 
will  be  here  before  morning,  but  somehow  I  wish " 

"Well,  what  do  you  wish?"  said  a  Tiny  Voice  close 
by  her  —  so  close  that  Little  Girl  fairly  jumped  when 
she  heard  it. 

"Why,  I  wish  I  could  see  Santa  myself.    I'd  just 

4* 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          49 

like  to  go  and  see  his  house  and  his  workshop,  and  ride 
in  his  sleigh,  and  know  Mrs.  Santa  —  'twould  be  such 
fun,  and  then  I'd  know  for  sure. " 

''Why  don't  you  go,  then?"  said  Tiny  Voice.  "It's 
easy  enough.  Just  try  on  these  Shoes,  and  take  this 
Light  in  your  hand,  and  you'll  find  your  way  all  right. " 

So  Little  Girl  looked  down  on  the  hearth,  and  there 
were  two  cunning  little  Shoes  side  by  side,  and  a  little 
Spark  of  a  Light  close  to  them  —  just  as  if  they  were 
all  made  out  of  one  of  the  glowing  coals  of  the  wood- 
fire.  Such  cunning  Shoes  as  they  were  —  Little  Girl 
could  hardly  wait  to  pull  off  her  slippers  and  try  them 
on.  They  looked  as  if  they  were  too  small,  but  they 
weren't  —  they  fitted  exactly  right,  and  just  as  Little 
Girl  had  put  them  both  on  and  had  taken  the  Light  in 
her  hand,  along  came  a  little  Breath  of  Wind,  and  away 
she  went  up  the  chimney,  along  with  ever  so  many 
other  little  Sparks,  past  the  Soot  Fairies,  and  out  into 
the  Open  Air,  where  Jack  Frost  and  the  Star  Beams 
were  all  busy  at  work  making  the  world  look  pretty 
for  Christmas. 

Away  went  Little  Girl  — Two  Shoes,  Bright  Light, 
and  all  —  higher  and  higher,  until  she  looked  like  a 
wee  bit  of  a  star  up  in  the  sky.  It  was  the  funniest 
thing,  but  she  seemed  to  know  the  way  perfectly,  and 
didn't  have  to  stop  to  make  inquiries  anywhere.  You 
see  it  was  a  straight  road  all  the  way,  and  when  one 
doesn't  have  to  think  about  turning  to  the  right  or  the 
left,  it  makes  things  very  much  easier.  Pretty  soon 


50          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Little  Girl  noticed  that  there  was  a  bright  light  all 
around  her  —  oh,  a  very  bright  light  —  and  right 
away  something  down  in  her  heart  began  to  make  her 
feel  very  happy  indeed.  She  didn't  know  that  the 
Christmas  spirits  and  little  Christmas  fairies  were  all 
around  her  and  even  right  inside  her,  because  she 
couldn't  see  a  single  one  of  them,  even  though  her  eyes 
were  very  bright  and  could  usually  see  a  great  deal. 

But  that  was  just  it,  and  Little  Girl  felt  as  if  she 
wanted  to  laugh  and  sing  and  be  glad.  It  made  her 
remember  the  Sick  Boy  who  lived  next  door,  and  she 
said  to  herself  that  she  would  carry  him  one  of  her 
prettiest  picture-books  in  the  morning,  so  that  he 
could  have  something  to  make  him  happy  all  day. 
By  and  by,  when  the  bright  light  all  around  her  had 
grown  very,  very  much  brighter,  Little  Girl  saw  a  path 
right  in  front  of  her,  all  straight  and  trim,  leading  up  a 
hill  to  a  big,  big  house  with  ever  and  ever  so  many 
windows  in  it.  When  she  had  gone  just  a  bit  nearer, 
she  saw  candles  in  every  window,  red  and  green  and 
yellow  ones,  and  every  one  burning  brightly,  so  Little 
Girl  knew  right  away  that  these  were  Christmas 
candles  to  light  her  on  her  journey,  and  make  the  way 
clear  for  her,  and  something  told  her  that  this  was 
Santa's  house,  and  that  pretty  soon  she  would  perhaps 
see  Santa  himself. 

Just  as  she  neared  the  steps  and  before  she  could 
possibly  have  had  time  to  ring  the  bell,  the  door  opened 
—  opened  of  itself  as  wide  as  could  be  —  and  therq 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          51 

stood  —  not  Santa  himself  —  don't  think  it  —  but 
a  funny  Little  Man  with  slender  little  legs  and  a  roly- 
poly  stomach  which  shook  every  now  and  then  when  he 
laughed.  You  would  have  known  right  away,  just  as 
Little  Girl  knew,  that  he  was  a  very  happy  little  man, 
and  you  would  have  guessed  right  away,  too,  that  the 
reason  he  was  so  roly-poly  was  because  he  laughed  and 
chuckled  and  smiled  all  the  time  —  for  it's  only  sour, 
cross  folks  who  are  thin  and  skimpy.  Quick  as  a 
wink,  he  pulled  off  his  little  peaked  red  cap,  smiled  the 
broadest  kind  of  a  smile,  and  said,  "Merry  Christmas! 
Merry  Christmas !  Come  in !  Come  in ! ' ' 

So  in  went  Little  Girl,  holding  fast  to  Little  Man's 
hand,  and  when  she  was  really  inside  there  was  the 
jolliest,  reddest  fire  all  glowing  and  snapping,  and  there, 
were  Little  Man  and  all  his  brothers  and  sisters,  who' 
said  their  names  were  "Merry  Christmas,"  and  "Good 
Cheer,"  and  ever  so  many  other  jolly-sounding  things, 
and  there  were  such  a  lot  of  them  that  Little  Girl  just 
knew  she  never  could  count  them,  no  matter  how  long 
she  tried. 

All  around  her  were  bundles  and  boxes  and  piles  of 
toys  and  games,  and  Little  Girl  knew  that  these  were 
all  ready  and  waiting  to  be  loaded  into  Santa's  big 
sleigh  for  his  reindeer  to  whirl  them  away  over  cloud- 
tops  and  snowdrifts  to  the  little  people  down  below 
who  had  left  their  stockings  all  ready  for  him.  Pretty 
soon  all  the  little  Good  Cheer  Brothers  began  to  hurry 
and  bustle  and  carry  out  the  bundles  as  fast  as  they 


52          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

could  to  the  steps  where  Little  Girl  could  hear  the  jing- 
ling bells  and  the  stamping  of  hoofs.  So  Little  Girl 
picked  up  some  bundles  and  skipped  along  too,  for  she 
wanted  to  help  a  bit  herself  —  it's  no  fun  whatever  at 
Christmas  unless  you  can  help,  you  know  —  and  there 
in  the  yard  stood  the  biggest  sleigh  that  Little  Girl 
had  ever  seen,  and  the  reindeer  were  all  stamping  and 
prancing  and  jingling  the  bells  on  their  harnesses, 
because  they  were  so  eager  to  be  on  their  way  to  the 
Earth  once  more. 

She  could  hardly  wait  for  Santa  to  come,  and  just  as 
she  had  begun  to  wonder  where  he  was,  the  door  opened 
again  and  out  came  a  whole  forest  of  Christmas  trees,( 
at  least  it  looked  just  as  if  a  whole  forest  had  started 
out  for  a  walk  somewhere,  but  a  second  glance  showed 
Little  Girl  that  there  were  thousands  of  Christmas 
sprites,  and  that  each  one  carried  a  tree  or  a  big  Christ- 
mas wreath  on  his  back.  Behind  them  all,  she  could 
hear  some  one  laughing  loudly,  and  talking  in  a  big, 
jovial  voice  that  sounded  as  if  he  were  good  friends 
with  the  whole  world. 

And  straightway  she  knew  that  Santa  himself  was 
coming.  Little  Girl's  heart  went  pit-a-pat  for  a  minute 
while  she  wondered  if  Santa  would  notice  her,  but  she 
didn't  have  to  wonder  long,  for  he  spied  her  at  once 
and  said: 

"Bless  my  soul!  who's  this?  and  where  did  you 
come  from?" 

Little  Girl  thought  perhaps  she  might  be  afraid  ta 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES         53 

answer  him,  but  she  wasn't  one  bit  afraid.  You  see  he 
had  such  a  kind  little  twinkle  in  his  eyes  that  she  felt 
happy  right  away  as  she  replied,  "Oh,  I'm  Little  Girl, 
and  I  wanted  so  much  to  see  Santa  that  I  just  came, 
and  here  I  am!"' 

"Ho,  ho,  ho,  ho,  ho!"  laughed  Santa,  "and  here  you 
are!  Wanted  to  see  Santa,  did  you,  and  so  you  came! 
Now  that's  very  nice,  and  it's  too  bad  I'm  in  such  a 
hurry,  for  we  should  like  nothing  better  than  to  show 
you  about  and  give  you  a  real  good  time.  But  you  see 
It  is  quarter  of  twelve  now,  and  I  must  be  on  my  way 
At  once,  else  I'll  never  reach  that  first  chimney-top  by 
midnight.  I'd  call  Mrs.  Santa  and  ask  her  to  get  you 
some  supper,  but  she  is  busy  finishing  dolls'  clothes 
which  must  be  done  before  morning,  and  I  guess  we'd 
better  not  bother  her.  Is  there  anything  that  you 
would  like,  Little  Girl?"  and  good  old  Santa  put  his 
big  warm  hand  on  Little  Girl's  curls  and  she  felt  its 
warmth  and  kindness  clear  down  to  her  very  heart. 
You  see,  my  dears,  that  even  though  Santa  was  in  such 
a  great  hurry,  he  wasn't  too  busy  to  stop  and  make 
some  one  happy  for  a  minute,  even  if  it  was  some  one 
no  bigger  than  Little  Girl. 

So  she  smiled  back  into  Santa's  face  and  said :  "  Oh, 
Santa,  if  I  could  only  ride  down  to  Earth  with  you 
behind  those  splendid  reindeer!  I'd  love  to  go;  won't 
you  please  take  me?  I'm  so  small  that  I  won't  take 
up  much  room  on  the  seat,  and  I'll  keep  very  still  and 
not  bother  one  bit!" 


54          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Then  Santa  laughed,  such  a  laugh,  big  and  loud  and 
rollicking,  and  he  said,  "Wants  a  ride,  does  she?  Well, 
well,  shall  we  take  her,  Little  Elves?  Shall  we  taks  her, 
Little  Fairies?  ShaU  we  take  her,  Good  Reindeer?  " 

And  all  the  Little  Elves  hopped  and  skipped  and 
brought  Little  Girl  a  sprig  of  holly;  and  all  the  Little 
Fairies  bowed  and  smiled  and  brought  her  a  bit  of 
mistletoe;  and  all  the  Good  Reindeer  jingled  their  bells 
loudly,  which  meant,  "Oh,  yes!  let's  take  her!  She's 
a  good  Little  Girl!  Let  her  ride!"  And  before  Little 
Girl  could  even  think,  she  found  herself  all  tucked  up 
in  the  big  fur  robes  beside  Santa,  and  away  they  went, 
right  out  into  the  air,  over  the  clouds,  through  the 
Milky  Way,  and  right  under  the  very  handle  of  the 
Big  Dipper,  on,  on,  toward  the  Earthland,  whose  lights 
Little  Girl  began  to  see  twinkling  away  down  below 
her.  Presently  she  felt  the  runners  scrape  upon  some* 
thing,  and  she  knew  they  must  be  on  some  one's  roof, 
and  that  Santa  would  slip  down  some  one's  chimney 
in  a  minute. 

How  she  wanted  to  go,  too!  You  see  if  you  had 
never  been  down  a  chimney  and  seen  Santa  fill  up  the 
stockings,  you  would  want  to  go  quite  as  much  as 
Little  Girl  did,  now,  wouldn't  you?  So,  just  as  Little 
Girl  was  wishing  as  hard  as  ever  she  could  wish,  she 
heard  a  Tiny  Voice  say,  "Hold  tight  to  his  arm!  Hold 
tight  to  his  arm!"  So  she  held  Santa's  arm  tight  and 
close,  and  he  shouldered  his  pack,  never  thinking  that 
ft  was  heavier  than  usual,  and  with  a  bound  and  a  slide, 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          55 

there  they  were,  Santa,  Little  Girl,  pack  and  all,  right 
in  the  middle  of  a  room  where  there  was  a  fireplace 
and  stockings  all  hung  up  for  Santa  to  fill. 

Just  then  Santa  noticed  Little  Girl.  He  had  for- 
gotten all  about  her  for  a  minute,  and  he  was  very 
much  surprised  to  find  that  she  had  come,  too.  "Bless 
my  soul!'7  he  said,  "where  did  you  come  from,  Little 
Girl?  and  how  in  the  world  can  we  both  get  back  up 
that  chimney  again?  It's  easy  enough  to  slide  down, 
but  it's  quite  another  matter  to  climb  up  again!"  and 
Santa  looked  real  worried.  But  Little  Girl  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  very  tired  by  this  time,  for  she  had  had  a 
very  exciting  evening,  so  she  said,  "Oh,  never  mind  me, 
Santa.  I've  had  such  a  good  time,  and  I'd  just  as  soon 
stay  here  a  while  as  not.  I  believe  I'll  curl  up  on  hi* 
hearth-rug  a  few  minutes  and  have  a  little  nap,  for  it 
looks  as  warm  and  cozy  as  our  own  hearth-rug  at  home, 
and  —  why,  it  is  our  own  hearth  and  it's  my  own 
nursery,  for  there  is  Teddy  Bear  in  his  chair  where  1 
leave  him  every  night,  and  there's  Bunny  Cat  curled 
up  on  his  cushion  in  the  corner. " 

And  Little  Girl  turned  to  thank  Santa  and  say  good- 
bye to  him,  but  either  he  had  gone  very  quickly,  or  else 
she  had  fallen  asleep  very  quickly  —  she  never  could 
tell  which  —  for  the  next  thing  she  knew,  Daddy  was 
holding  her  in  his  arms  and  was  saying,  "What  is  my 
Little  Girl  doing  here?  She  must  go  to  bed,  for  it's 
Christmas  Eve,  and  old  Santa  won't  come  if  he  thinks 
there  are  any  little  folks  about. " 


56          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

But  Little  Girl  knew  better  than  that,  and  when  she 
began  to  tell  him  all  about  it,  and  how  the  Christmas 
fairies  had  welcomed  her,  and  how  Santa  had  given 
her  such  a  fine  ride,  Daddy  laughed  and  laughed,  and 
said,  "You've  been  dreaming,  Little  Girl,  you've 
been  dreaming. " 

But  Little  Girl  knew  better  than  that,  too,  for  there 
on  the  hearth  was  the  little  Black  Coal,  which  had  given 
her  Two  Shoes  and  Bright  Light,  and  tight  in  her  hand 
she  held  a  holly  berry  which  one  of  the  Christmas 
Sprites  had  placed  there.  More  than  all  that,  there 
she  was  on  the  hearth-rug  herself,  just  as  Santa  had 
left  her,  and  that  was  the  best  proof  of  all. 

The  trouble  was,  Daddy  himself  had  never  been  a 
Little  Girl,  so  he  couldn't  tell  anything  about  it,  but 
we  know  she  hadn't  been  dreaming,  now,  don't  we, 
my  dears? 


VII 
"A  CHRISTMAS  MATINEE"* 

MRS.   M.   A.   L.   LANE 

IT  WAS  the  day  before  Christmas  in  the  year 
189  —  .  Snow  was  falling  heavily  in  the  streets 
of  Boston,  but  the  crowd  of  shoppers  seemed  undi- 
minished.  As  the  storm  increased,  groups  gathered  at 
the  corners  and  in  sheltering  doorways  to  wait  for  be- 
lated cars;  but  the  holiday  cheer  was  in  the  air,  and 
there  was  no  grumbling.  Mothers  dragging  tired 
children  through  the  slush  of  the  streets;  pretty  girls 
hurrying  home  for  the  holidays;  here  and  there  a 
harassed-looking  man  with  perhaps  a  single  package 
which  he  had  taken  a  whole  morning  to  select  —  all 
had  the  same  spirit  of  tolerant  good-humor. 

"School  Street!  School  Street!"  caUed  the  conductor 
of  an  electric  car.  A  group  of  young  people  at  the  far- 
ther end  of  the  car  started  to  their  feet.  One  of  them, 
a  young  man  wearing  a  heavy  fur-trimmed  coat, 
addressed  the  conductor  angrily. 

"I  said,  ' Music  Hall,'  didn't  I?"  he  demanded. 
"Now  we've  got  to  walk  back  in  the  snow  because  of 
your  stupidity!" 

*This  story  was  first  published  in  the  Youth's  Companion  vol.  74. 
57 


58          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

" Oh,  never  mind,  Frank! "  one  of  the  girls  interposed 
"We  ought  to  have  been  looking  out  ourselves!  Six 
of  us,  and  we  went  by  without  a  thought!  It  is  aU 
Mrs.  Tirrell's  fault!  She  shouldn't  have  been  so  enter- 
taining!" 

The  young  matron  dimpled  and  blushed.  "That's 
charming  of  you,  Maidie,77  she  said,  gathering  up  her 
silk  skirts  as  she  prepared  to  step  down  into  the  pond 
before  her.  "  The  compliment  makes  up  for  the  blame 
But  how  it  snows!" 

"It  doesn't  matter.  We  all  have  gaiters  on,"  re- 
turned Maidie  Williams,  undisturbed. 

"Fares,  please!77  said  the  conductor  stolidly. 

Frank  Armstrong  thrust  his  gloved  hand  deep  into 
his  pocket  with  angry  vehemence.  "There's  youi 
money,77  he  said,  "and  be  quick  about  the  change,  will 
you?  We7ve  lost  time  enough!77 

The  man  counted  out  the  change  with  stiff,  red 
fingers,  closed  his  lips  firmly  as  if  to  keep  back  an 
obvious  rejoinder,  rang  up  the  six  fares  with  careful 
accuracy,  and  gave  the  signal  to  go  ahead.  The  car 
went  on  into  the  drifting  storm. 

Armstrong  laughed  shortly  as  he  rapidly  counted  the 
bits  of  silver  lying  in  his  open  palm.  He  turned  instinc- 
tively, but  two  or  three  cars  were  already  between  him 
and  the  one  he  was  looking  for. 

"The  fellow  must  be  an  imbecile,77  he  said,  rejoining 
the  group  on  the  crossing.  "  He7s  given  me  back  a  dollar 
and  twenty  cents,  and  I  handed  him  a  dollar  bill. " 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          59 

"Oh,  can't  you  stop  him?"  cried  Maidie  Williams, 
with  a  backward  step  into  the  wet  street. 

The  Harvard  junior,  who  was  carrying  her  umbrella, 
protested:  "What's  the  use,  Miss  Williams?  He'll 
make  it  up  before  he  gets  to  Scollay  Square,  you  may 
be  sure.  Those  chaps  don't  lose  anything.  Why,  the 
other  day,  I  gave  one  a  quarter  and  he  went  off  as  cool 
as  you  please.  ' Where's  my  change?'  said  I.  'You 
gave  me  a  nickel,'  said  he.  And  there  wasn't  anybody 
to  swear  that  I  didn't  except  myself,  and  I  didn't 
count." 

"But  that  doesn't  make  any  difference,"  insisted  the 
girl  warmly.  "Because  one  conductor  was  dishonest, 
we  needn't  be.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Frank,  but  it  does 
seem  to  me  just  stealing. " 

"Oh,  come  along!"  said  her  cousin,  with  an  easy 
laugh.  "I  guess  the  West  End  Corporation  won't  go 
without  their  dinners  to-morrow.  Here,  Maidie,  here's 
the  ill-gotten  fifty  cents.  /  think  you  ought  to  treat 
us  all  after  the  concert;  still,  I  won't  urge  you,  I  wash 
my  hands  of  all  responsibility.  But  I  do  wish  you 
hadn't  such  an  unpleasant  conscience. " 

Maidie  flushed  under  the  sting  of  his  cousinly  rude- 
ness, but  she  went  on  quietly  with  the  rest.  It  was 
evident  that  any  attempt  to  overtake  the  car  was  out 
of  the  question. 

"Did  you  notice  his  number,  Frank?"  she  asked, 
suddenly. 

%<No,  I  never  thought  of  it"  said  Frank,  stopping 


fc>          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

short.  "However,  I  probably  shouldn't  make  any 
complaint  if  I  had.  I  shall  forget  all  about  it  to- 
morrow. I  find  it's  never  safe  to  let  the  sun  go  down 
on  my  wrath.  It's  very  likely  not  to  be  there  the  next 
day." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  making  a  complaint,"  said 
Maidie;  but  the  two  young  men  were  enjoying  the 
small  joke  too  much  to  notice  what  she  said. 

The  great  doorway  of  Music  Hall  was  just  ahead, 
In  a  moment  the  party  were  within  its  friendly  shelter, 
stamping  off  the  snow.  The  girls  were  adjusting  veils 
and  hats  with  adroit  feminine  touches;  the  pretty 
chaperon  was  beaming  approval  upon  them,  and  the 
young  men  were  taking  off  their  wet  overcoats,  when 
Maidie  turned  again  in  sudden  desperation. 

"Mr.  Harris,"  she  said,  rather  faintly,  for  she  did 
not  like  to  make  herself  disagreeable,  "do  you  suppose 
that  car  comes  right  back  from  Scollay  Square?" 

"What  car?"  asked  Walter  Harris,  blankly.  "Oh, 
the  one  we  came  in?  Yes,  I  suppose  it  does.  They're 
running  all  the  time,  anyway.  Why,  you  are  not  sick, 
are  you,  Miss  Williams?" 

There  was  genuine  concern  in  his  tone.  This  girl, 
with  her  sweet,  vibrant  voice,  her  clear  gray  eyes, 
seemed  very  charming  to  him.  She  wasn't  beautiful, 
perhaps,  but  she  was  the  kind  of  girl  he  liked.  There 
was  a  steady  earnestness  in  the  gray  eyes  that  made 
him  think  of  his  mother. 

"No."  said  Maidie,  slowly.    "I'm  all  right,  thank 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          61 

you.  But  I  wish  I  could  find  that  man  again.  I  know 
sometimes  they  have  to  make  it  up  if  their  accounts  are 
wrong,  and  I  couldn't  —  we  couldn't  feel  very  comfor- 
table  " 

Frank  Armstrong  interrupted  her.  "Maidie,"  he 
said,  with  the  studied  calmness  with  which  one  speaks 
to  an  unreasonable  child,  "you  are  perfectly  absurd. 
Here  it  is  within  five  minutes  of  the  time  for  the  concert 
to  begin.  It  is  impossible  to  tell  when  that  car  is  com- 
ing back.  You  are  making  us  all  very  uncomfortable. 
Mrs.  Tirrill,  won't  you  please  tell  her  not  to  spoil  our 
afternoon?" 

"I  think  he's  right,  Maidie,"  said  Mrs.  Tirrell. 
"It's  very  nice  of  you  to  feel  so  sorry  for  the  poor  man, 
but  he  really  was  very  careless.  It  was  all  his  own 
fault.  And  just  think  how  far  he  made  us  walk! 
My  feet  are  quite  damp.  We  ought  to  go  in  directly 
or  we  shall  all  take  cold,  and  I'm  sure  you  wouldn't 
like  that,  my  dear. " 

She  led  the  way  as  she  spoke,  the  two  girls  and  young 
Armstrong  following.  Maidie  hesitated.  It  was  so 
easy  to  go  in,  to  forget  everything  in  the  light  and 
warmth  and  excitement. 

"No,"  said  she,  very  firmly,  and  as  much  to  herself 
as  to  the  young  man  who  stood  waiting  for  her.  "I 
must  go  back  and  try  to  make  it  right.  I'm  so  sorry, 
Mr.  Harris,  but  if  you  will  tell  them  — — " 

"  Why,  I'm  going  with  you,  of  course  "  said  the  young 
fellow,  impulsively.  "If  I'd  only  looked  once  at  the 


62          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

man  I'd  go  alone,  but  I  shouldn't  know  him  from 
Adam." 

Maidie  laughed.  "  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  lose  the  whole 
concert,  Mr.  Harris,  and  Frank  has  all  the  tickets. 
You  must  go  after  them  and  try  to  make  my  peace. 
I'll  come  just  as  soon  as  I  can.  Don't  wait  for  me, 
please.  If  you'll  come  and  look  for  me  here  the  first 

number,  and  not  let  them  scold  me  too  much " 

She  ended  with  an  imploring  little  catch  in  her  breath 
that  was  almost  a  sob. 

"They  sha'n't  say  a  word,  Miss  Williams!"  cried 
Walter  Harris,  with  honest  admiration  in  his  eyes. 
But  she  was  gone  already,  and  conscious  that  further 
delay  was  only  making  matters  worse,  he  went  on  into 
the  haU. 

Meanwhile,  the  car  swung  heavily  along  the  wet 
rails  on  its  way  to  the  turning-point.  It  was  nearly 
empty  now.  An  old  gentleman  and  his  nurse  were  the 
only  occupants.  Jim  Stevens,  the  conductor,  had 
stepped  inside  the  car. 

"Too  bad  I  forgot  those  young  people  wanted  to  get 
off  at  Music  Hall,"  he  was  thinking  to  himself.  "I 
don't  see  how  I  came  to  do  it.  That  chap  looked  as 
if  he  wanted  to  complain  of  me,  and  I  don't  know  as 
I  blame  him.  I'd  have  said  I  was  sorry  if  he  hadn't 
been  so  sharp  with  his  tongue.  I  hope  he  won't  com- 
plain just  now.  'Twould  be  a  pretty  bad  time  for  me 
to  get  into  trouble,  with  Mary  and  the  baby  both  sick. 
I'm  too  sleepy  to  be  good  for  much,  that's  a  fact. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          63 

Sitting  up  three  nights  running  takes  hold  of  a  fellow 
somehow  when  he's  at  work  all  day.  The  rent's  paid, 
that's  one  thing,  if  it  hasn't  left  me  but  half  a  dollar 
to  my  name.  Hullo!"  He  was  struck  by  a  sudden 
distinct  recollection  of  the  coins  he  had  returned. 
"Why,  I  gave  him  fifty  cents  too  much!" 

He  glanced  up  at  the  dial  which  indicated  the  fares 
and  began  to  count  the  change  in  his  pocket.  He 
knew  exactly  how  much  money  he  had  had  at  the 
beginning  of  the  trip.  He  counted  carefully.  Then 
he  plunged  his  hand  into  the  heavy  canvas  pocket  of 
his  coat.  Perhaps  he  had  half  a  dollar  there.  No;  it 
was  empty!" 

He  faced  the  fact  reluctantly.  Fifty  cents  short, 
cen  fares!  Gone  into  the  pocket  of  the  young  gentle- 
man with  the  fur  collar!  The  conductor's  hand  shook 
as  he  put  the  money  back  in  his  pocket.  It  meant  — 
what  did  it  mean?  He  drew  a  long  breath. 

Christmas  Eve!  A  dark  dreary  little  room  upstairs 
in  a  noisy  tenement  house.  A  pale,  thin  woman  on  a 
shabby  lounge  vainly  trying  to  quiet  a  fretful  child. 
The  child  is  thin  and  pale,  too,  with  a  hard,  racking 
cough.  There  is  a  small  fire  in  the  stove,  a  very  small 
fire;  coal  is  so  high.  The  medicine  stands  on  the  shelf. 
"Medicine  won't  do  much  good,"  the  doctor  had  said; 
"he  needs  beef  and  cream. " 

Jim's  heart  sank  at  the  thought.  He  could  almost 
hear  the  baby  asking:  "Isn't  papa  coming  soon?  Isn't 
he,  mamma?" 


64          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"Poor  little  kid!"  Jim  said,  softly,  under  his  breath. 
"And  I  shan't  have  a  thing  to  take  home  to  him;  nor 
Mary's  violets,  either.  It'll  be  the  first  Christmas 
that  ever  happened.  I  suppose  that  chap  would  think 
it  was  ridiculous  for  me  to  be  buying  violets.  He 
wouldn't  understand  what  the  flowers  mean  to  Mary. 
Perhaps  he  didn't  notice  I  gave  him  too  much.  That 
kind  don't  know  how  much  they  have.  They  just  pull 
it  out  as  if  it  was  newspaper. " 

The  conductor  went  out  into  the  snow  to  help  the 
nurse,  who  was  assisting  the  old  gentleman  to  the 
ground.  Then  the  car  swung  on  again.  Jim  turned 
up  the  collar  of  his  coat  about  his  ears  and  stamped  his 
feet.  There  was  the  florist's  shop  where  he  had  meant 
to  buy  the  violets,  and  the  toy-shop  was  just  around 
the  corner. 

A  thought  flashed  across  his  tired  brain.  "Plenty 
of  men  would  do  it;  they  do  it  every  day.  Nobody 
ever  would  be  the  poorer  for  it.  This  car  will  be 
crowded  going  home.  I  needn't  ring  in  every  fare; 
nobody  could  tell.  But  Mary!  She  wouldn't  touch 
those  violets  if  she  knew.  And  she'd  know.  I'd  have  to 
tell  her.  I  couldn't  keep  it  from  her,  she's  that  quick. " 

He  jumped  off  to  adjust  the  trolley  with  a  curious 
sense  of  unreality.  It  couldn't  be  that  he  was  really 
going  home  this  Christmas  Eve  with  empty  hands. 
Well,  they  must  all  suffer  together  for  his  carelessness, 
It  was  his  own  fault,  but  it  was  hard.  And  he  was  so 
tired! 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          65 

To  his  amazement  he  found  his  eyes  were  blurred  as 
he  watched  the  people  crowding  into  the  car.  What) 
Was  he  going  to  cry  like  a  baby  —  he,  a  great  burly 
man  of  thirty  years? 

"It's  no  use,"  he  thought.  "I  couldn't  do  it.  The 
first  time  I  gave  Mary  violets  was  the  night  she  said 
she'd  marry  me.  I  told  her  then  I'd  do  my  best  to 
make  her  proud  of  me.  I  guess  she  wouldn't  be  very 
proud  of  a  man  who  could  cheat.  She'd  rather  starve 
than  have  a  ribbon  she  couldn't  pay  for. " 

He  rang  up  a  dozen  fares  with  a  steady  hand.  The 
temptation  was  over.  Six  more  strokes  —  then  nine 
without  a  falter.  He  even  imagined  the  bell  rang 
more  distinctly  than  usual,  even  encouragingly. 

The  car  stopped.  Jim  flung  the  door  open  with  a 
triumphant  sweep  of  his  arm.  He  felt  ready  to  face 
the  world.  But  the  baby  —  his  arm  dropped.  It 
was  hard. 

He  turned  to  help  the  young  girl  who  was  waiting 
at  the  step.  Through  the  whirling  snow  he  saw  her 
eager  face,  with  a  quick  recognition  lighting  the  steady 
eyes,  and  wondered  dimly,  as  he  stood  with  his  hand  on 
the  signal-strap,  where  he  could  have  seen  her  before. 
He  knew  immediately. 

"There  was  a  mistake,"  she  said,  with  a  shy  tremor 
in  her  voice.  "  You  gave  us  too  much  change  and  here 
it  is."  She  held  out  to  Jim  the  piece  of  silver  which 
had  given  him  such  an  unhappy  quarter  of  an  hour. 

He  took  it  like  one  dazed.    Would  the  young  lady 


66          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

think  he  was  crazy  to  care  so  much  about  so  small  a 
coin?  He  must  say  something.  "Thank  you,  miss," 
he  stammered  as  well  as  he  could.  "  You  see,  I  thought 
it  was  gone  —  and  there's  the  baby  —  and  it's 
Christmas  Eve  —  and  my  wife's  sick  —  and  you  can't 
understand " 

It  certainly  was  not  remarkable  that  she  couldn't. 

"But  I  do, "  she  said,  simply.  "I  was  afraid  of  that. 
And  I  thought  perhaps  there  was  a  baby,  so  I  brought 
my  Christmas  present  for  her,"  and  something  else 
dropped  into  Jim's  cold  hand. 

"What  you  waiting  for?"  shouted  the  motormap 
from  the  front  platform.  The  girl  had  disappeared 
in  the  snow. 

Jim  rang  the  bell  to  go  ahead,  and  gazed  again  at  the 
two  shining  half  dollars  in  his  hand. 

"I  didn't  have  a  chance  to  tell  her,"  he  explained  to 
his  wife  late  in  the  evening,  as  he  sat  in  a  tiny  rocking- 
chair  several  sizes  too  small  for  him,  "that  the  baby 
wasn't  a  her  at  all,  though  if  I  thought  he'd  grow  up 
into  such  a  lovely  one  as  she  is,  I  don't  know  but  I 
almost  wish  he  was. " 

"Poor  Jim!"  said  Mary,  with  a  little  laugh  as  she  put 
up  her  hand  to  stroke  his  rough  cheek.  "I  guess 
you're  tired. " 

"And  I  should  say,"  he  added,  stretching  out  his 
long  legs  toward  the  few  red  sparks  in  the  bottom  of 
the  grate,  "I  should  say  she  had  tears  in  her  eyes,  toor 
but  I  was  that  near  crying  myself  I  couldn't  be  sure. " 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          67 

The  little  room  was  sweet  with  the  odour  of  English 
violets.  Asleep  in  the  bed  lay  the  boy,  a  toy  horse 
clasped  close  to  his  breast. 

"  Bless  her  heart ! "  said  Mary,  softly. 

"Wefl,  Miss  Williams,"  said  Walter  Harris,  as  he 
sprang  to  meet  a  snow-covered  figure  coming  swiftly 
along  the  sidewalk.  "I  can  see  that  you  found  him. 
You've  lost  the  first  number,  but  they  won't  scold  you 
—  not  this  time. " 

The  girl  turned  a  radiant  face  upon  him.  "Thank 
you,"  she  said,  shaking  the  snowy  crystals  from  her 
skirt.  "I  don't  care  now  if  they  do.  I  should  have 
lost  more  than  that  if  I  had  stayed. " 


VIII 
TOINETTE  AND  THE  ELVES* 


SUSAN  COOLIDGE 


THE  winter's  sun  was  nearing  the  horizon's  edge. 
Each  moment  the  tree  shadows  grew  longer  in 
the  forest;  each  moment  the  crimson  light  on  the 
upper  boughs  became  more  red  and  bright.  It  was 
Christmas  Eve,  or  would  be  in  half  an  hour, 
when  the  sun  should  be  fairly  set;  but  it  did  not 
feel  like  Christmas,  for  the  afternoon  was  mild  and 
sweet,  and  the  wind  in  the  leafless  boughs  sang,  as 
it  moved  about,  as  though  to  imitate  the  vanished 
birds.  Soft  trills  and  whistles,  odd  little  shakes  and 
twitters  —  it  was  astonishing  what  pretty  noises  the 
wind  made,  for  it  was  in  good  humor,  as  winds  should 
be  on  the  Blessed  Night;  all  its  storm-tones  and  bass- 
notes  were  for  the  moment  laid  aside,  and  gently  as 
though  hushing  a  baby  to  sleep,  it  cooed  and  rustled 
and  brushed  to  and  fro  in  the  leafless  woods. 

Toinette  stood,  pitcher  in  hand,  beside  the  well. 
"Wishing  Well,"  the  people  called  it,  for  they  believed 
that  if  any  one  standing  there  bowed  to  the  East, 
repeated  a  certain  rhyme  and  wished  a  wish,  the  wish 

•Published  by  arrangement  with  Little,  Brown  &  Co 

68 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES         69 

would  certainly  come  true.  Unluckily,  nobody  knew 
exactly  what  the  rhyme  should  be.  Toinette  did  not; 
she  was  wishing  that  she  did,  as  she  stood  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  bubbling  water.  How  nice  it  would  be! 
she  thought.  What  beautiful  things  should  be  hers, 
if  it  were  only  to  wish  and  to  have.  She  would  be 
beautiful,  rich,  good  —  oh,  so  good.  The  children 
should  love  her  dearly,  and  never  be  disagreeable. 
Mother  should  not  work  so  hard  —  they  should  all  go 
back  to  France  —  which  mother  said  was  si  belle. 
Oh,  dear,  how  nice  it  would  be.  Meantime,  the  sun 
sank  lower,  and  mother  at  home  was  waiting  for  the 
water,  but  Toinette  forgot  that. 

Suddenly  she  started.  A  low  sound  of  crying  met 
her  ear,  and  something  like  a  tiny  moan.  It  seemed 
close  by  but  she  saw  nothing. 

Hastily  she  filled  her  pitcher  and  turned  to  go.  But 
again  the  sound  came,  an  unmistakable  sob,  right  under 
her  feet.  Toinette  stopped  short. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  called  out  bravely.  "Is 
anybody  there?  and  if  there  is,  why  don't  I  see  you?  " 

A  third  sob  —  and  all  at  once,  down  on  the  ground 
beside  her,  a  tiny  figure  became  visible,  so  small  that 
Toinette  had  to  kneel  and  stoop  her  head  to  see  it 
plainly.  The  figure  was  that  of  an  odd  little  man.  He 
wore  a  garb  of  green  bright  and  glancing  as  the  scales 
of  a  beetle.  In  his  mite  of  a  hand  was  a  cap,  out  of 
which  stuck  a  long  pointed  feather.  Two  specks  of 
tears  stood  on  his  cheeks  and  he  fixed  on  Toinette  a 


70          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

glance  so  sharp  and  so  sad  that  it  made  her  feel  sorry 
and  frightened  and  confused  all  at  once. 

"Why  how  funny  this  is!"  she  said,  speaking  to 
herself  out  loud. 

"Not  at  all/7  replied  the  little  man,  in  a  voice  as  dry 
and  crisp  as  the  chirr  of  a  grasshopper.  "  Any  thing 
but  funny.  I  wish  you  wouldn't  use  such  words. 
It  hurts  my  feelings,  Toinette. " 

"Do  you  know  my  name,  then?"  cried  Toinette, 
astonished.  "  That's  strange.  But  what  is  the  matter? 
Why  are  you  crying  so,  little  man?" 

"I'm  not  a  little  man.  I'm  an  elf,"  responded  the 
dry  voice;  "and  I  think  you'd  cry  if  you  had  an  en- 
gagement out  to  tea,  and  found  yourself  spiked  on  a 
great  bayonet,  so  that  you  couldn't  move  an  inch. 
Look!"  He  turned  a  little  as  he  spoke  and  Toinette 
saw  a  long  rosethorn  sticking  through  the  back  of  the 
green  robe.  The  little  man  could  by  no  means  reach 
the  thorn,  and  it  held  him  fast  prisoner  to  the  place. 

"  Is  that  all?    I'll  take  it  out  for  you, "  she  said. 

"Be  careful  — oh,  be  careful,"  entreated  the  little 
man.  "  This  is  my  new  dress,  you  know  —  my  Christ- 
mas suit,  and  it's  got  to  last  a  year.  If  there  is  a  hole 
in  it,  Peascod  will  tickle  me  and  Bean  Blossom  tease, 
till  I  shall  wish  myself  dead. "  He  stamped  with  vexa- 
tion at  the  thought. 

"Now,  you  mustn't  do  that,"  said  Toinette,  in  a 
motherly  tone,  "else  you'll  tear  it  yourself,  you  know." 
She  broke  off  the  thorn  as  she  spoke,  and  gently  drew  it 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          71 

out.  The  elf  anxiously  examined  the  stuff.  A  tiny 
puncture  only  was  visible  and  his  face  brightened. 

"You're  a  good  child,"  he  said.  "I'll  do  as  much 
for  you  some  day,  perhaps. " 

"I  would  have  come  before  if  I  had  seen  you," 
remarked  Toinette,  timidly.  "But  I  didn't  see  you 
a  bit." 

"No,  because  I  had  my  cap  on,"  cried  the  elf.  He 
placed  it  on  his  head  as  he  spoke,  and  hey,  presto! 
nobody  was  there,  only  a  voice  which  laughed  and  said  : 
"  Well  —  don't  stare  so.  Lay  your  finger  on  me  now. " 

"  Oh, "  said  Toinette,  with  a  gasp.  "  How  wonderful. 
What  fun  it  must  be  to  do  that.  The  children  wouldn't 
see  me.  I  should  steal  in  and  surprise  them;  they 
would  go  on  talking,  and  never  guess  that  I  was  there. 
I  should  so  like  it.  Do  elves  ever  lend  their  caps  tc 
anybody?  I  wish  you'd  lend  me  yours.  It  must  be 
so  nice  to  be  invisible." 

"Ho,"  cried  the  elf,  appearing  suddenly  again. 
"Lend  my  cap,  indeed!  Why  it  wouldn't  stay  on  the 
very  tip  of  your  ear,  it's  so  small.  As  for  nice,  that 
depends.  Sometimes  it  is,  and  sometimes  it  isn't. 
No,  the  only  way  for  mortal  people  to  be  invisible  is  to 
gather  the  fern-seed  and  put  it  in  their  shoes. " 

"Gather  it?  Where?  I  never  saw  any  seed  to  the 
ferns,"  said  Toinette,  staring  about  her. 

"Of  course  not  —  we  elves  take  care  of  that,"  re- 
plied the  little  man.  "Nobody  finds  the  fern-seed 
but  ourselves.  I'll  tell  you  what,  though.  You  were 


72          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

such  a  nice  child  to  take  out  the  thorn  so  cleverly,  that 
I'll  give  you  a  little  of  the  seed.  Then  you  can  try  the 
fun  of  being  invisible,  to  your  heart's  content. " 

"Will  you  really?  How  delightful.  May  I  have 
it  now?" 

"Bless  me.  Do  you  think  I  carry  my  pockets 
stuffed  with  it ?  "  said  the  elf.  "  Not  at  all.  Go  home, 
say  not  a  word  to  any  one,  but  leave  your  bedroom 
window  open  to  night,  and  you'll  see  what  you'll 
see." 

He  laid  his  finger  on  his  nose  as  he  spoke,  gave  a 
jump  like  a  grasshopper,  clapping  on  his  cap  as  he 
went,  and  vanished.  Toinette  lingered  a  moment,  in 
hopes  that  he  might  come  back,  then  took  her  pitcher 
and  hurried  home.  The  woods  were  verv  dusky  by 
this  time;  but  full  of  her  strange  adventures,  she  did 
not  remember  to  feel  afraid. 

"  How  long  you  have  been, "  said  her  motner.  "  It's 
late  for  a  little  maid  like  you  to  be  up.  You  must  make 
better  speed  another  time,  my  child. " 

Toinette  pouted  as  she  was  apt  to  do  when  reproved. 
The  children  clamoured  to  know  what  had  kept  her, 
and  she  spoke  pettishly  and  crossly;  so  that  they  too 
became  cross,  and  presently  went  away  into  the  outer 
kitchen  to  play  by  themselves.  The  children  were  apt 
to  creep  away  when  Toinette  came.  It  made  her 
angry  and  unhappy  at  times  that  they  should  do  so, 
but  she  did  not  realize  that  it  was  in  great  part  her  own 
fault,  and  to  did  not  set  herself  to  mend  it. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          73 

"Tell  me  a  'tory,"  said  baby  Jeanneton,  creeping  to 
her  knee  a  little  later.  But  Toinette 's  head  was  full 
of  the  elf;  she  had  no  time  to  spare  for  Jeanneton. 

"Oh,  not  to-night,"  she  replied.  "Ask  mother  to 
tell  you  one." 

"Mother's  busy,"  said  Jeanneton  wistfully. 

Toinette  took  no  notice  and  the  little  one  crept  away 
disconsolately. 

Bedtime  at  last.  Toinette  set  the  casement  open, 
and  lay  a  long  time  waiting  and  watching;  then  she  fell 
asleep.  She  waked  with  a  sneeze  and  jump  and  sat  up 
in  bed.  Behold,  on  the  coverlet  stood  her  elfin  friend, 
with  a  long  train  of  other  elves  beside  him,  all  clad 
in  the  beetle-wing  green,  and  wearing  little  pointed 
caps.  More  were  coming  in  at  the  window;  outside  a 
iew  were  drifting  about  in  the  moon  rays,  which  lit 
their  sparkling  robes  till  they  glittered  like  so  many 
fireflies.  The  odd  thing  was,  that  though  the  caps 
were  on,  Toinette  could  see  the  elves  distinctly  and 
this  surprised  her  so  much,  that  again  she  thought  out. 
loud  and  said,  "How  funny. " 

"You  mean  about  the  caps,"  replied  her  special  elf, 
who  seemed  to  have  the  power  of  reading  thought. 
"Yes,  you  can  see  us  to-night,  caps  and  all.  Spells 
lose  their  value  on  Christmas  Eve,  always.  Peascod, 
where  is  the  box?  Do  you  still  wish  to  try  the  experi- 
ment of  being  invisible,  Toinette?" 

;<  Oh,  yes  —  indeed  I  do. " 

" Very  well;  so  let  it  be." 


74          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

As  he  spoke  he  beckoned,  and  two  elves  puffing  and 
panting  like  little  men  with  a  heavy  load,  dragged  for- 
ward a  droll  little  box  about  the  size  of  a  pumpkin-seed. 
One  of  them  lifted  the  cover. 

"Pay  the  porter,  please,  ma'am,"  he  said  giving 
Toinette's  ear  a  mischievous  tweak  with  his  sharp 
fingers. 

"Hands  off,  you  bad  Peascod!"  cried  Toinette's  elf. 
"This  is  my  girl.  She  shan't  be  pinched!"  He  dealt 
Peascod  a  blow  with  his  tiny  hand  as  he  spoke  and 
looked  so  brave  and  warlike  that  he  seemed  at  least  an 
inch  taller  than  he  had  before.  Toinette  admired  him 
very  much;  and  Peascod  slunk  away  with  an  abashed 
giggle  muttering  that  Thistle  needn't  be  so  ready  with 
his  fist. 

Thistle  —  for  thus,  it  seemed,  Toinette's  friend  was 
named  —  dipped  his  fingers  in  the  box,  which  was  full 
of  fine  brown  seeds,  and  shook  a  handful  into  each  of 
Toinette's  shoes,  as  they  stood,  toes  together  by  the 
bedside. 

"Now  you  have  your  wish,"  he  said,  and  can  go 
about  and  do  what  you  like,  no  one  seeing.  The  charm 
will  end  at  sunset.  Make  the  most  of  it  while  you  can; 
but  if  you  want  to  end  it  sooner,  shake  the  seeds  from 
the  shoes  and  then  you  are  just  as  usual. " 

"Oh,  I  shan't  want  to,"  protested  Toinette;  "I'm 
sure  I  shan't. " 

"Good-bye,"  said  Thistle,  with  a  mocking  little 
laugh. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          75 

"Good-bye,  and  thank  you  ever  so  much,"  replied 
Toinette. 

" Good-bye,  good-bye,"  replied  the  other  elves,  in 
shrill  chorus.  They  clustered  together,  as  if  in  con- 
sultation; then  straight  out  of  the  window  they  flew  like 
a  swarm  of  gauzy-winged  bees,  and  melted  into  the 
moonlight.  Toinette  jumped  up  and  ran  to  watch 
them  but  the  little  men  were  gone  —  not  a  trace  of 
them  was  to  be  seen;  so  she  shut  the  window,  went 
back  to  bed  and  presently  in  the  midst  of  her  amazed 
and  excited  thoughts  fell  asleep. 

She  waked  in  the  morning,  with  a  queer,  doubtful 
feeling.  Had  she  dreamed,  or  had  it  really  happened? 
She  put  on  her  best  petticoat  and  laced  her  blue  bodice: 
for  she  thought  the  mother  would  perhaps  take  them 
across  the  wood  to  the  little  chapel  for  the  Christmas 
service.  Her  long  hair  smoothed  and  tied,  her  shoes 
trimly  fastened,  downstairs  she  ran.  The  mother  was 
stirring  porridge  over  the  fire.  Toinette  went  close  to 
her,  but  she  did  not  move  or  turn  her  head. 

"How  late  the  children  are,"  she  said  at  last,  lifting 
the  boiling  pot  on  the  hob.  Then  she  went  to  the  stair- 
foot  and  called,  "Marc,  Jeanneton,  Pierre,  Marie. 
Breakfast  is  ready,  my  children.  Toinette  —  but 
where,  then,  is  Toinette?  She  is  used  to  be  down 
long  before  this. " 

"Toinette  isn't  upstairs,"  said  Marie  from  above. 
"Her  door  is  wide  open,  and  she  isn't  there. " 

"That  is  strange,"  said  the  mother.     "I  have  been 


76          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

here  an  hour,  and  she  has  not  passed  this  way  since. " 
She  went  to  the  outer  door  and  called,  "Toinette! 
Toinette!"  passing  close  to  Toinette  as  she  did  so,  and 
looking  straight  at  her  with  unseeing  eyes.  Toinette, 
half  frightened,  half  pleased,  giggled  low  to  herself. 
She  really  was  invisible,  then.  How  strange  it  seemed 
and  what  fun  it  was  going  to  be. 

The  children  sat  down  to  breakfast,  little  Jeanneton, 
as  the  youngest,  saying  grace.  The  mother  distributed 
the  porridge  and  gave  each  a  spoon  but  she  looked 
anxious. 

"Where  can  Toinette  have  gone?"  she  said  to 
herself.  Toinette  was  conscious-pricked.  She  was* 
half  inclined  to  dispel  the  charm  on  the  spot.  Bur 
just  then  she  caught  a  whisper  from  Pierre  to  Marc 
which  so  surprised  her  as  to  put  the  idea  out  of  her  head. 

"Perhaps  a  wolf  has  eaten  her  up  —  a  great  big  wolf 
like  the  'Capuchon  Rouge/  you  know."  This  was 
what  Pierre  said;  and  Marc  answered  unfeelingly: 

"If  he  has,  I  shall  ask  mother  to  let  me  have  her 
room  for  my  own. " 

Poor  Toinette,  her  cheeks  burned  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears  at  this.  Didn't  the  boys  love  her  a  bit  then? 
Next  she  grew  angry,  and  longed  to  box  Marc's  ears, 
only  she  recollected  in  tune  that  she  was  invisible. 
What  a  bad  boy  he  was,  she  thought. 

The  smoking  porridge  reminded  her  that  she  was 
hungry;  so  brushing  away  the  tears  she  slipped  a  spoon 
off  the  table  and  whenever  she  found  the  chance,  dipped 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          77 

it  into  the  bowl  for  a  mouthful.  The  porridge  dis- 
appeared rapidly. 

"I  want  some  more,"  said  Jeanneton. 

" Bless  me, how  fast  you  have  eaten,  "said  the  mother, 
turning  to  the  bowl. 

This  made  Toinette  laugh,  which  shook  her  spoon, 
and  a  drop  of  the  hot  mixture  fell  right  on  the  tip  of 
Marie's  nose  as  she  sat  with  upturned  face  waiting 
her  turn  for  a  second  helping.  Marie  gave  a  little 
scream. 

"What  is  it? "  said  the  mother. 

"Hot  water !    Right  in  my  face ! "  sputtered  Marie. 

"  Water ! "  cried  Marc.     "  It's  porridge. " 

"You  spattered  with  your  spoon.  Eat  more  care- 
fully, my  child, "  said  the  mother,  and  Toinette  laughed 
again  as  she  heard  her.  After  all,  there  was  some  fun 
in  being  invisible. 

The  morning  went  by.  Constantly  the  mother  went 
to  the  door,  and,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand, 
looked  out,  in  hopes  of  seeing  a  little  figure  come  down 
the  wood-path,  for  she  thought  perhaps  the  child  went 
to  the  spring  after  water,  and  fell  asleep  there.  The 
children  played  happily,  meanwhile.  They  were  used 
to  doing  without  Toinette  and  did  not  seem  to  miss 
her,  except  that  now  and  then  baby  Jeanneton  said: 
"Poor  Toinette  gone  —  not  here  —  all  gone. " 

"Well,  what  if  she  has?"  said  Marc  at  last  looking 
up  from  the  wooden  cup  he  was  carving  for  Marie's 
doll.  "  We  can  play  all  the  better. " 


78          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Marc  was  a  bold,  outspoken  boy,  who  always  told 
his  whole  mind  about  things. 

"  If  she  were  here, "  he  went  on,  "  she'd  only  scold  and 
interfere.  Toinette  almost  always  scolds.  I  like  to 
have  her  go  away.  It  makes  it  pleasanter. " 

"It  is  rather  pleasanter,"  admitted  Marie,  "only 
I'd  like  her  to  be  having  a  nice  time  somewhere  else. " 

"Bother  about  Toinette,"  cried  Pierre. 

"Let's  play  'My  godmother  has  cabbage  to  sell.'  " 

I  don't  think  Toinette  had  ever  felt  so  unhappy  in 
her  life,  as  when  she  stood  by  unseen,  and  heard  the 
children  say  these  words.  She  had  never  meant  to  be 
unkind  to  them,  but  she  was  quick-tempered,  dreamy, 
wrapped  up  in  herself.  She  did  not  like  being  inter- 
rupted by  them,  it  put  her  out,  and  she  spoke  sharply 
and  was  cross.  She  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  the 
others  must  love  her,  by  a  sort  of  right,  and  the  knowl- 
edge that  they  did  not  grieved  ftf  r  very  much.  Creep- 
ing away,  she  hid  herself  in  the  woods.  It  was  a  spark- 
ling day,  but  the  sun  did  not  look  so  bright  as  usual. 
Cuddled  down  under  a  rosebush,  Toinette  sat  sobbing 
as  if  her  heart  would  break  at  the  recollection  of  the 
speeches  she  had  overheard. 

By  and  by  a  little  voice  within  her  woke  up  and  be* 
gan  to  make  itself  audible.  All  of  us  know  this  little 
voice.  We  call  it  conscience. 

"Jeanneton  missed  me,"  she  thought.  "And,  oh, 
dear!  I  pushed  her  away  only  last  night  and  wouldn't 
tell  her  a  story.  And  Marie  hoped  I  was  having  a 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          79 

pleasant  time  somewhere.  I  wish  I  hadn't  slapped 
Marie  last  Friday.  And  I  wish  I  hadn't  thrown  Marc's 
ball  into  the  fire  that  day  I  was  angry  with  him.  How 
unkind  he  was  to  say  that  —  but  I  wasn't  always  kind 
to  him.  And  once  I  said  that  I  wished  a  bear  would  eat 
Pierre  up.  That  was  because  he  broke  my  cup.  Oh, 
dear,  oh,  dear.  What  a  bad  girl  I've  been  to  them  all. " 

"But  you  could  be  better  and  kinder  if  you  tried, 
couldn't  you?"  said  the  inward  voice.  "I  think  you 
could." 

And  Toinette  clasped  her  hands  tight  and  said  out 
loud :  "I  could.  Yes  —  and  I  wiU. " 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  get  rid  of  the  fern- 
seed  which  she  now  regarded  as  a  hateful  thing.  She 
untied  her  shoes  and  shook  it  out  in  the  grass.  It 
dropped  and  seemed  to  melt  into  the  air,  for  it  instantly 
vanished.  A  mischievous  laugh  sounded  close  behind, 
and  a  beetle-green  coat-tail  was  visible  whisking  under 
ci  tuft  of  rushes.  But  Toinette  had  had  enough  of  the 
elves,  and,  tying  her  shoes,  took  the  road  toward  home, 
running  with  all  her  might. 

"Where  have  you  been  all  day,  Toinette?"  cried  the 
children,  as,  breathless  and  panting,  she  flew  in  at  the 
gate.  But  Toinette  could  not  speak.  She  made  slowly 
for  her  mother,  who  stood  in  the  doorway,  flung  herself 
into  her  arms  and  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

"Ma  cherie,  what  is  it,  whence  hast  thou  come?" 
asked  the  good  mother  alarmed.  She  lifted  Toinette 
into  her  arms  as  she  spoke,  and  hastened  indoors, 


8o          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

The  other  children  followed,  whispering  and  peeping, 
but  the  mother  sent  them  away,  and  sitting  down  by 
the  fire  with  Toinette  in  her  lap,  she  rocked  and  hushed 
and  comforted,  as  though  Toinette  had  been  again  a 
little  baby.  Gradually  the  sobs  ceased.  For  a  while 
Toinette  lay  quiet,  with  her  head  on  her  mother's 
breast.  Then  she  wiped  her  wet  eyes,  put  her  arms 
around  her  mother's  neck,  and  told  her  all  from  the 
very  beginning,  keeping  not  a  single  thing  back.  The 
dame  listened  with  alarm. 

"Saints  protect  us,"  she  muttered.  Then  feeling 
Toinette's  hands  and  head,  "Thou  hast  a  fever,"  she 
said.  "I  will  make  thee  a  tisane,  my  darling,  and  thou 
must  at  once  go  to  bed."  Toinette  vainly  protested; 
to  bed  she  went  and  perhaps  it  was  the  wisest  thing,  for 
the  warm  drink  threw  her  into  a  long  sound  sleep  and 
when  she  woke  she  was  herself  again,  bright  and  well, 
hungry  for  dinner,  and  ready  to  do  her  usual  tasks. 

Herself  —  but  not  quite  the  same  Toinette  that  she 
had  been  before.  Nobody  changes  from  bad  to  better 
in  a  minute.  It  takes  time  for  that,  time  and  effort, 
and  a  long  struggle  with  evil  habits  and  tempers.  But 
there  is  sometimes  a  certain  minute  or  day  in  which 
people  begin  to  change,  and  thus  it  was  with  Toinette. 
The  fairy  lesson  was  not  lost  upon  her.  She  began  to 
fight  with  herself,  to  watch  her  faults  and  try  to  conquci 
them.  It  was  hard  work;  often  she  felt  discouraged, 
but  she  kept  on.  Week  after  week  and  month  after 
month  she  grew  less  selfish,  kinder,  more  obliging  than 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          81 

she  used  to  be.  When  she  failed  and  her  old  fractious 
temper  got  the  better  of  her,  she  was  sorry  and  begged 
every  one's  pardon  so  humbly  that  they  could  not  but 
forgive.  The  mother  began  to  think  that  the  elves 
really  had  bewitched  her  child.  As  for  the  children  they 
learned  to  love  Toinette  as  never  before,  and  came  to 
her  with  all  their  pains  and  pleasures,  as  children  should 
to  a  kind  older  sister.  Each  fresh  proof  of  this,  every 
kiss  from  Jeanneton,  every  confidence  from  Marc,  was 
a  comfort  to  Toinette,  for  she  never  forgot  Christmas 
Day,  and  felt  that  no  trouble  was  too  much  to  wipe  out 
that  unhappy  recollection.  "I  think  they  like  me 
better  than  they  did  then, "  she  would  say;  but  then  the 
thought  came,  "  Perhaps  if  I  were  invisible  again,  if 
they  did  not  know  I  was  there,  I  might  hear  something 
to  make  me  feel  as  badly  as  I  did  that  morning." 
These  sad  thoughts  were  part  of  the  bitter  fruit  of  the 
fairy  fern-seed. 

So  with  doubts  and  fears  the  year  went  by,  and  again 
it  was  Christmas  Eve.  Toinette  had  been  asleep  some 
hours  when  she  was  roused  by  a  sharp  tapping  at  the 
window  pane.  Startled,  and  only  half  awake,  she  sat 
up  in  bed  and  saw  by  the  moonlight  a  tiny  figure  out- 
side which  she  recognized.  It  was  Thistle  drumming 
with  his  knuckles  on  the  glass. 

"Let  me  in, "  cried  the  dry  little  voice.  So  Toinette 
opened  the  casement,  and  Thistle  flew  in  and  perched 
as  before  on  the  coverlet. 

"Merry  Christmas,  my  girl."  he  said,  "and  a  Happy 


82          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

New  Year  when  it  comes.  I've  brought  you  a  present ; " 
and,  dipping  into  a  pouch  tied  round  his  waist,  he 
pulled  out  a  handful  of  something  brown.  Toinette 
knew  what  it  was  in  a  moment. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  cried  shrinking  back.  "Don't  give 
me  any  fern-seeds.  They  frighten  me.  I  don't  like 
them." 

"Don't  be  silly,"  said  Thistle,  his  voice  sounding 
kind  this  time,  and  earnest.  "  It  wasn't  pleasant  being 
invisible  last  year,  but  perhaps  this  year  it  will  be. 
Take  my  advjce,  and  try  it.  You'll  not  be  sorry. " 

"  Sha'n't  I? "  said  Toinette,  brightening.  "Very  well, 
then,  I  will."  She  leaned  out  of  bed,  and  watched 
Thistle  strew  the  fine  dustlike  grains  in  each  shoe. 

"I'll  drop  in  to-morrow  night,  and  just  see  how  you 
like  it, "  he  said.  Then,  with  a  nod,  he  was  gone. 

The  old  fear  came  back  when  she  woke  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  she  tied  on  her  shoes  with  a  tremble  at  her 
heart.  Downstairs  she  stole.  The  first  thing  she 
saw  was  a  wooden  ship  standing  on  her  plate.  Marc 
had  made  the  ship,  but  Toinette  had  no  idea  it  was  for 
her. 

The  little  ones  sat  round  the  table  with  their  eyes  on 
the  door,  watching  till  Toinette  should  come  in  and  be 
surprised. 

"I  wish  she'd  hurry,"  said  Pierre,  drumming  on  his 
bowl  with  a  spoon. 

"We  all  want  Toinette,  don't  we?"  said  the  mother, 
smiling  as  she  poured  the  hot  porridge. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          83 

"It  will  be  fun  to  see  her  stare,"  declared  Marc. 
•''Toinette  is  jolly  when  she  stares.  Her  eyes  look  big 
and  her  cheeks  grow  pink.  Andre  Brugen  thinks  his 
sister  Aline  is  prettiest,  but  I  don't.  Our  Toinette  is 
ever  so  pretty. " 

"She  is  ever  so  nice,  too,"  said  Pierre.  " She's  as 
good  to  play  with  as  —  as  —  a  boy/'  finished  trium- 
phantly. 

"Oh,  I  wish  my  Toinette  would  come,"  said  Jeanne- 
ton. 

Toinette  waited  no  longer,  but  sped  upstairs  with 
glad  tears  in  her  eyes.  Two  minutes,  and  down  she 
came  again  visible  this  time.  Her  heart  was  light  as  a 
feather. 

"Merry  Christmas!"  clamoured  the  children.  The 
ship  was  presented,  Toinette  was  duly  surprised,  and  so 
the  happy  day  began. 

That  night  Toinette  left  the  window  open,  and  lay 
down  in  her  clothes;  for  she  felt,  as  Thistle  had  been  so 
kind,  she  ought  to  receive  him  politely.  He  came  at 
midnight,  and  with  him  all  the  other  little  men  in 
green. 

"Well,  how  was  it?"  asked  Thistle. 

"Oh,  I  liked  it  this  time,"  declared  Toinette,  with 
shining  eyes,  and  I  thank  you  so  much. " 

"I'm  glad  you  did,"  said  the  elf.  "And  I'm  glad 
you  are  thankful,  for  we  want  you  to  do  something 
for  us. " 

"What  can  it  be?"  inquired  Toinette,  wondering. 


84          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"You  must  know,"  went  on  Thistle,  "that  there  is 
no  dainty  in  the  world  which  we  elves  enjoy  like  a  bowl 
of  fern-seed  broth.  But  it  has  to  be  cooked  over  a 
real  fire,  and  we  dare  not  go  near  fire,  you  know,  lest 
our  wings  scorch.  So  we  seldom  get  any  fern-seed 
broth.  Now,  Toinette,  will  you  make  us  some?  " 

"Indeed,  I  will!"  cried  Toinette,  "only  you  must 
tell  me  how." 

"It  is  very  simple,"  said  Peascod;  "only  seed  and 
honey  dew,  stirred  from  left  to  right  with  a  sprig  of 
fennel.  Here's  the  seed  and  the  fennel,  and  here's  the 
dew.  Be  sure  and  stir  from  the  left;  if  you  don't,  it 
curdles,  and  the  flavour  will  be  spoiled. " 

Down  into  the  kitchen  they  went,  and  Toinette, 
moving  very  softly,  quickened  the  fire,  set  on  the 
smallest  bowl  she  could  find,  and  spread  the  doll's 
table  with  the  wooden  saucers  which  Marc  had  made 
for  Jeanneton  to  play  with.  Then  she  mixed  and 
stirred  as  the  elves  bade,  and  when  the  soup  was  done, 
served  it  to  them  smoking  hot.  How  they  feasted! 
No  bumblebee,  dipping  into  a  flower-cup,  ever  sipped 
and  twinkled  more  rapturously  than  they. 

When  the  last  drop  was  eaten,  they  made  ready  to 
go.  Each  in  turn  kissed  Toinette's  hand,  and  said  a 
word  of  farewell.  Thistle  brushed  his  feathered  cap 
over  the  doorpost  as  he  passed. 

"Be  lucky,  house,"  he  said,  "for  you  have  received 
and  entertained  the  luck-bringers.  And  be  lucky, 
Toinette.  Good  temper  is  good  luck,  and  sweet  words 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          85 

and  kind  looks  and  peace  in  the  heart  are  the  fairest  of 
fortunes.  See  that  you  never  lose  them  again,  my  girl." 
With  this,  he,  too,  kissed  Toinette's  hand,  waved  his 
feathered  cap,  and  —  whir!  they  all  were  gone,  while 
Toinette,  covering  the  fire  with  ashes  and  putting  aside 
the  little  cups,  stole  up  to  her  bed  a  happy  child. 


IX 

THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  WEE  RED  CAP 

RUXH   SAWYER  DURAND 

IT  WAS  the  night  of  St.  Stephen,  and  Teig  sat  alone 
by  his  fire  with  naught  in  his  cupboard  but  a 
pinch  of  tea  and  a  bare  mixing  of  meal,  and  a  heart 
inside  of  him  as  soft  and  warm  as  the  ice  on  the  water- 
bucket  outside  the  door.  The  tuft  was  near  burnt  on 
the  hearth  —  a  handful  of  golden  cinders  left,  just; 
and  Teig  took  to  counting  them  greedily  on  his  fingers. 

"There's  one,  two,  three,  an'  four  an'  five,"  he 
laughed.  "Faith,  there  be  more  bits  o'  real  gold  hid 
undther  the  loose  clay  in  the  corner. " 

It  was  the  truth;  and  it  was  the  scraping  and  scrooch- 
ing  for  the  last  piece  that  had  left  Teig's  cupboard  bare 
of  a  Christmas  dinner. 

"Gold  is  betther  nor  eatin'  an'  dthrinkin'.  An'  if 
ye  have  naught  to  give,  there'll  be  naught  asked  of  ye;" 
and  he  laughed  again. 

He  was  thinking  of  the  neighbours,  and  the  doles  of 
food  and  piggins  of  milk  that  would  pass  over  their 
thresholds  that  night  to  the  vagabonds  and  paupers 

*Published  originally  in  the  Outlook.  Reprinted  here  by  arrangement 
with  the  author. 

86 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          87 

who  were  sure  to  come  begging.  And  on  the  heels  of 
that  thought  followed  another:  who  would  be  giving 
old  Barney  his  dinner?  Barney  lived  a  stone's  throw 
from  Teig,  alone,  in  a  wee  tumbled-in  cabin;  and  for  a 
score  of  years  past  Teig  had  stood  on  the  doorstep  every 
Christmas  Eve,  and,  making  a  hollow  of  his  two  hands, 
had  called  across  the  road: 

"Hey,  there,  Barney,  will  ye  come  over  for  a  sup?" 
And  Barney  had  reached  for  his  crutches  —  there  being 
but  one  leg  to  him  —  and  had  come. 

"Faith,"  said  Teig,  trying  another  laugh,  "Barney 
can  fast  for  the  once;  'twill  be  all  the  same  in  a  month's 
time. "  And  he  fell  to  thinking  of  the  gold  again. 

A  knock  came  at  the  door.  Teig  pulled  himself 
down  in  his  chair  where  the  shadow  would  cover  him, 
and  held  his  tongue. 

"Teig,  Teig!"  It  was  the  widow  O'Donnelly's 
voice.  "If  ye  are  there,  open  your  door.  I  have  not 
got  the  pay  for  the  spriggin'  this  month,  an'  the  chil- 
dher  are  needin'  food. " 

But  Teig  put  the  leash  on  his  tongue,  and  never 
stirred  till  he  heard  the  tramp  of  her  feet  going  on  to  the 
next  cabin.  Then  he  saw  to  it  that  the  door  was  tight- 
barred.  Another  knock  came,  and  it  was  a  stranger's 
voice  this  time: 

"The  other  cabins  are  filled;  not  one  but  \as  its 
hearth  crowded;  will  ye  take  us  in  —  the  two  of  us? 
The  wind  bites  mortal  sharp,  not  a  morsel  o'  food  have 
ve  tasted  this  day.  Masther,  will  ye  take  us  in?  " 


88         CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

But  Teig  sat  on,  a-holding  his  tongue;  and  the  tramp 
of  the  strangers'  feet  passed  down  the  road.  Others 
took  their  place  —  small  feet,  running.  It  was  the 
miller's  wee  Cassie,  and  she  called  out  as  she  ran  by. 

"Old  Barney's  watchin'  for  ye.  Ye'll  not  be  for- 
gettin'  him,  will  ye,  Teig?" 

And  then  the  child  broke  into  a  song,  sweet  and  clear, 
as  she  passed  down  the  road: 

"Listen  all  ye,  'tis  the  Feast  o'  St.  Stephen, 
Mind  that  ye  keep  it,  this  holy  even. 
Open  your  door  an*  greet  ye  the  stranger  — 
For  ye  mind  that  the  wee  Lord  had  naught  but  a  manger. 

Mhuire  as  truagh! 

"Feed  ye  the  hungry  an*  rest  ye  the  weary, 
This  ye  must  do  for  the  sake  of  Our  Mary. 
'Tis  well  that  ye  mind  —  ye  who  sit  by  the  fire  — 
That  the  Lord  he  was  born  in  a  dark  and  cold  byre. 

Mhuire  as  truagh !n 

Teig  put  his  fingers  deep  in  his  ears.  "A  million 
murdthering  curses  on  them  that  won't  let  me  be! 
Can't  a  man  try  to  keep  what  is  his  without  bein' 
pesthered  by  them  that  has  only  idled  an'  wasted 
their  days?" 

And  then  the  strange  thing  happened:  hundreds  and 
hundreds  of  wee  lights  began  dancing  outside  the 
window,  making  the  room  bright;  the  hands  of  the  cloct 
began  chafing  each  other  round  the  dial,  and  the  bolt 
of  the  door  drew  itself  out.  Slowly,  without  a  creak 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          89 

or  a  cringe,  the  door  opened,  and  in  there  trooped  a 
crowd  of  the  Good  People.  Their  wee  green  cloaks 
were  folded  close  about  them,  and  each  carried  a 
rush  candle. 

Teig  was  filled  with  a  great  wonderment,  entirely, 
when  he  saw  the  fairies,  but  when  they  saw  him  they 
laughed. 

"We  are  takin'  the  loan  o'  your  cabin  this  night, 
Teig,"  said  they.  "Ye  are  the  only  man  hereabout 
with  an  empty  hearth,  an'  we're  needin'  one. " 

Without  saying  more,  they  bustled  about  the  room 
making  ready.  They  lengthened  out  the  table  and 
spread  and  set  it;  more  of  the  Good  People  trooped  in, 
bringing  stools  and  food  and  drink.  The  pipers  came 
last,  and  they  sat  themselves  around  the  chimney-piece 
a-blowing  their  chanters  and  trying  the  drones.  The 
feasting  began  and  the  pipers  played  and  never  had  Teig 
seen  such  a  sight  in  his  life.  Suddenly  a  wee  man  sang 
out: 

" Clip,  clap,  clip,  clap,  I  wish  I  had  my  wee  red  cap! " 
And  out  of  the  air  there  tumbled  the  neatest  cap  Teig 
ever  laid  his  two  eyes  on.  The  wee  man  clapped  it  on 
his  head,  crying: 

"I  wish  I  was  in  Spain!"  and  —  whist  —  up  the 
chimney  he  went,  and  away  out  of  sight. 

It  happened  just  as  I  am  telling  it.  Another  wee 
man  called  for  his  cap,  and  away  he  went  after  the  first. 
And  then  another  and  another  until  the  room  was 
empty  and  Teig  sat  alone  again. 


90          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"By  my  soul,"  said  Teig,  "I'd  like  to  thravel  that 
way  myself !  It's  a  grand  savin'  of  tickets  an'  baggage ; 
an'  ye  get  to  a  place  before  ye've  had  time  to  change 
your  mind.  Faith  there  is  no  harm  done  if  I  thry  it. " 

So  he  sang  the  fairies'  rhyme  and  out  of  the  air 
dropped  a  wee  cap  for  him.  For  a  moment  the  wonder 
had  him,  but  the  next  he  was  clapping  the  cap  on  his 
head  and  crying: 

"Spain!" 

Then  —  whist  —  up  the  chimney  he  went  after  the 
fairies,  and  before  he  had  time  to  let  out  his  breath  he 
was  standing  in  the  middle  of  Spain,  and  strangeness 
all  about  him. 

He  was  in  a  great  city.  The  doorways  of  the  houses 
were  hung  with  flowers  and  the  air  was  warm  and  sweet 
with  the  smell  of  them.  Torches  burned  along  the 
streets,  sweetmeat-sellers  went  about  crying  their 
wares,  and  on  the  steps  of  the  cathedral  crouched  a 
crowd  of  beggars. 

"What's  the  meanin'  o'  that?"  asked  Teig  of  one 
of  the  fairies. 

"They  are  waiting  for  those  that  are  hearing  mass. 
When  they  come  out,  they  give  half  of  what  they  have 
to  those  that  have  nothing,  so  on  this  night  of  all  the 
year  there  shall  be  no  hunger  and  no  cold. " 

And  then  far  down  the  street  came  the  sound  of  a 
child's  voice,  singing: 

"Listen  all  ye,  'tis  the  Feast  o'  St.  Stephen, 
Mind  that  ye  keep  it,  this  holy  even". 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          91 

"Curse  it!"  said  Teig;  "can  a  song  fly  afther  ye?" 
And  then  he  heard  the  fairies  cry  "  Holland  1"  and 
cried  "Holland!"  too. 

In  one  leap  he  was  over  France,  and  another  over 
Belgium;  and  with  the  third  he  was  standing  by  long 
ditches  of  water  frozen  fast,  and  over  them  glided 
hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  lads  and  maids.  Outside 
each  door  stood  a  wee  wooden  shoe  empty.  Teig 
saw  scores  of  them  as  he  looked  down  the  ditch  of  a 
street. 

"What  is  the  meanin'  o'  those  shoes? "  he  asked  the 
fairies. 

"Ye  poor  lad!"  answered  the  wee  man  next  to 
him;  "are  ye  not  knowing  anything?  This  is  the  Gift 
Night  of  the  year,  when  every  man  gives  to  his  neigh- 
bour." 

A  child  came  to  the  window  of  one  of  the  houses,  and 
in  her  hand  was  a  lighted  candle.  She  was  singing  as 
she  put  the  light  down  close  to  the  glass,  and  Teig 
caught  the  words: 

"Open  your  door  an*  greet  ye  the  stranger  — 
For  ye  mind  that  the  wee  Lord  had  naught  but  a  manger. 

Mhuire  as  truagh! " 

"  'Tis  the  de'iTs  work! "  cried  Teig,  and  he  set  the  red 
cap  more  firmly  on  his  head. 

"I'm  for  another  country." 

I  cannot  be  telling  you  a  haL:  of  the  adventures  Teig 
had  that  night,  nor  half  the  sights  that  he  saw.  But 


92          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

he  passed  by  fields  that  held  sheaves  of  grain  for  the 
birds  and  doorsteps  that  held  bowls  of  porridge  for  the 
wee  creatures.  He  saw  lighted  trees,  sparkling  and 
heavy  with  gifts;  and  he  stood  outside  the  churches  and 
watched  the  crowds  pass  in,  bearing  gifts  to  the  Holy 
Mother  and  Child. 

At  last  the  fairies  straightened  their  caps  and  cried, 
"Now  for  the  great  hall  in  the  King  of  England's 
palace!" 

Whist  —  and  away  they  went,  and  Teig  after  them; 
and  the  first  thing  he  knew  he  was  in  London,  not  an 
arm's  length  from  the  King's  throne.  It  was  a  grander 
sight  than  he  had  seen  in  any  other  country.  The  hall 
was  filled  entirely  with  lords  and  ladies;  and  the  great 
doors  were  open  for  the  poor  and  the  homeless  to  come 
hi  and  warm  themselves  by  the  King's  fire  and  feast 
from  the  King's  table.  And  many  a  hungry  soul  did 
the  King  serve  with  his  own  hands. 

Those  that  had  anything  to  give  gave  it  in  return. 
It  might  be  a  bit  of  music  played  on  a  harp  or  a  pipe,  or 
it  might  be  a  dance  or  a  song;  but  more  often  it  was  a 
wish,  just,  for  good  luck  and  safekeeping. 

Teig  was  so  taken  up  with  the  watching  that  he 
never  heard  the  fairies  when  they  wished  themselves 
off;  moreover,  he  never  saw  the  wee  girl  that  was  fed, 
and  went  laughing  away.  But  he  heard  a  bit  of  her 
song  as  she  passed  through  the  door: 

"Feed  ye  the  hungry  an'  rest  ye  the  weary, 
This  ye  must  do  for  the  sake  of  Our  Mary." 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          93 

Then  the  anger  had  Teig.  "I'll  stop  your  pestherin* 
tongue,  once  an'  for  all  time!"  and,  catching  the  cap 
from  his  head,  he  threw  it  after  her. 

No  sooner  was  the  cap  gone  than  every  soul  in  the 
hall  saw  him.  The  next  moment  they  were  about  him, 
catching  at  his  coat  and  crying: 

"Where  is  he  from,  what  does  he  here?  Bring 
him  before  the  King!"  And  Teig  was  dragged 
along  by  a  hundred  hands  to  the  throne  where  the 
King  sat. 

"He  was  stealing  food,"  cried  one. 

"He  was  robbing  the  King's  jewels,"  cried  another. 

"  He  looks  evil, "  cried  a  third.     "  Kill  him ! " 

And  in  a  moment  all  the  voices  took  it  up  and  the  hall 
rang  with :  1 1  Aye,  kill  him,  kill  him ! ' ' 

Teig's  legs  took  to  trembling,  and  fear  put  the  leash 
on  his  tongue;  but  after  a  long  silence  he  managed  to 
whisper: 

"I  have  done  evil  to  no  one  —  no  one!" 

"Maybe,"  said  the  King;  "but  have  ye  done  good? 
Come,  tell  us,  have  ye  given  aught  to  any  one  this  night? 
If  ye  have,  we  will  pardon  ye. " 

Not  a  word  could  Teig  say — fear  tightened  the  leash 
—  for  he  was  knowing  full  well  there  was  no  good  to 
him  that  night. 

"Then  ye  must  die,"  said  the  King.  "Will  ye  try 
hanging  or  beheading?" 

"Hanging,  please,  your  Majesty,"  said  Teig. 

The  guards  came  rushing  up  and  carried  him  off. 


94          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

But  as  he  was  crossing  the  threshold  of  the  hall  a 
thought  sprang  at  him  and  held  him. 

"Your  Majesty,"  he  called  after  him,  "will  ye  grant 
me  a  last  request?" 

"  I  wffl,"  said  the  King. 

"Thank  ye.  There's  a  wee  red  cap  that  I'm  mortal 
fond  of,  and  I  lost  it  a  while  ago;  if  I  could  be  hung 
with  it  on,  I  would  hang  a  deal  more  comfortable. " 

The  cap  was  found  and  brought  to  Teig. 

"Clip,  clap,  clip,  clap,  for  my  wee  red  cap,  I  wish  I 
was  home,"  he  sang. 

Up  and  over  the  heads  of  the  dumf ounded  guard  he 
flew,  and  —  whist — and  away  out  of  sight.  When  he 
opened  his  eyes  again,  he  was  sitting  close  by  his  own 
hearth,  with  the  fire  burnt  low.  The  hands  of  the 
clock  were  still,  the  bolt  was  fixed  firm  in  the  door. 
The  fairies'  lights  were  gone,  and  the  only  bright  thing 
was  the  candle  burning  hi  old  Barney's  cabin  across  the 
road. 

A  running  of  feet  sounded  outside,  and  then  the 
snatch  of  a  song: 

"'Tis  well  that  ye  mind  —  ye  who  sit  by  the  fire  — 
That  the  Lord  he  was  born  in  a  dark  and  cold  byre. 

Mhuire  as  truaghl" 

"Wait  ye,  whoever  ye  are!"  and  Teig  was  away  to 
the  corner,  digging  fast  at  the  loose  clay,  as  a  terrier 
digs  at  a  bone.  He  filled  his  hands  full  of  the  shining 
gold,  then  hurried  to  the  door,  unbarring  it. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          95 

The  miller's  wee  Cassie  stood  there,  peering  at  him 
out  of  the  darkness. 

"Take  those  to  the  widow  O'Donnelly,  do  ye  hear? 
And  take  the  rest  to  the  store.  Ye  tell  Jamie  to  bring 
up  all  that  he  has  that  is  eatable  an'  dhrinkable;  and  to 
the  neighbours  ye  say,  'Teig's  keepin'  the  feast  this 
night. '  Hurry  now ! " 

Teig  stopped  a  moment  on  the  threshold  until  the 
tramp  of  her  feet  had  died  away;  then  he  made  a 
hollow  of  his  two  hands  and  called  across  the  road: 

"Hey  there,  Barney,  will  ye  come  over  for  a  sup?" 


X 

A  STORY  OF  THE  CHRIST-CHILD* 

A  German  legend  for  Christmas  Eve  as  told  by 

ELIZABETH    HARRISON 

ONCE  upon  a  time,  a  long,  long  time  ago,  on  the 
night  before  Christmas,  a  little  child  was  wander- 
ing all  alone  through  the  streets  of  a  great  city.  There 
were  many  people  on  the  street,  fathers  and  mothers, 
sisters  and  brothers,  uncles  and  aunts,  and  even  gray- 
haired  grandfathers  and  grandmothers,  all  of  whom 
were  hurrying  home  with  bundles  of  presents  for  earh 
other  and  for  their  little  ones.  Fine  carriages  rolled 
by,  express  wagons  rattled  past,  even  old  carts  were 
pressed  into  service,  and  all  things  seemed  in  a  hurry 
and  glad  with  expectation  of  the  coming  Christmas 
morning. 

From  some  of  the  windows  bright  lights  were  already 
beginning  to  stream  until  it  was  almost  as  bright  as  day. 
But  the  little  child  seemed  to  have  no  home,  and  wan- 
dered about  listlessly  from  street  to  street.  No  one 
took  any  notice  of  him  except  perhaps  Jack  Frost,  who 
bit  his  bare  toes  and  made  the  ends  of  his  fingers  tingle. 
The  north  wind,  too,  seemed  to  notice  the  child,  for  it 

*Reprinted  by  permission  of  the  author  from  her  collection,  "  Christmas 
tide, "  published  by  the  Chicago  Kindergarten  College. 

96 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          97 

blew  against  him  and  pierced  his  ragged  garments 
through  and  through,  causing  him  to  shiver  with  cold. 
Home  after  home  he  passed,  looking  with  longing  eyes 
through  the  windows,  in  upon  the  glad,  happy  children, 
most  of  whom  were  helping  to  trim  the  Christmas  trees 
for  the  coming  morrow. 

" Surely,"  said  the  child  to  himself,  "where  there  is 
so  must  gladness  and  happiness,  some  of  it  may  be  for 
me. "  So  with  timid  steps  he  approached  a  large  and 
handsome  house.  Through  the  windows,  he  could  see 
a  tall  and  stately  Christmas  tree  already  lighted. 
Many  presents  hung  upon  it.  Its  green  boughs  were 
trimmed  with  gold  and  silver  ornaments.  Slowly  he 
climbed  up  the  broad  steps  and  gently  rapped  at  the 
door.  It  was  opened  by  a  large  man-servant.  He  had 
a  kindly  face,  although  his  voice  was  deep  and  gruff. 
He  looked  at  the  little  child  for  a  moment,  then  sadly 
shook  his  head  and  said,  "Go  down  off  the  steps. 
There  is  no  room  here  for  such  as  you. "  He  looked 
sorry  as  he  spoke;  possibly  he  remembered  his  own 
little  ones  at  home,  and  was  glad  that  they  were  not 
out  in  this  cold  and  bitter  night.  Through  the  open 
door  a  bright  light  shone,  and  the  warm  air,  filled  with 
fragrance  of  the  Christmas  pine,  rushed  out  from  the 
inner  room  and  greeted  the  little  wanderer  with  a  kiss. 
As  the  child  turned  back  into  the  cold  and  darkness,  he 
wondered  why  the  footman  had  spoken  thus,  for  surely, 
thought  he,  those  little  children  would  love  to  have 
another  companion  join  them  in  their  joyous  Christmas 


98          CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

festival.    But  the  little  children  inside  did  not  even 
know  that  he  had  knocked  at  the  door. 

The  street  grew  colder  and  darker  as  the  child  passed 
on.  He  went  sadly  forward,  saying  to  himself,  "Is 
there  no  one  in  all  this  great  city  who  will  share  the 
Christmas  with  me?"  Farther  and  farther  down  the 
street  he  wandered,  to  where  the  homes  were  not  so 
large  and  beautiful.  There  seemed  to  be  little  children 
inside  of  nearly  all  the  houses.  They  were  dancing 
and  frolicking  about.  Christmas  trees  could  be  seen 
in  nearly  every  window,  with  beautiful  dolls  and 
trumpets  and  picture-books  and  balls  and  tops  and 
other  dainty  toys  hung  upon  them.  In  one  window 
the  child  noticed  a  little  lamb  made  of  soft  white  wool. 
Around  its  neck  was  tied  a  red  ribbon.  It  had  evidently 
been  hung  on  the  tree  for  one  of  the  children.  The 
little  stranger  stopped  before  this  window  and  looked 
long  and  earnestly  at  the  beautiful  things  inside,  but 
most  of  all  was  he  drawn  toward  the  white  lamb. 
At  last  creeping  up  to  the  window-pane,  he  gently 
tapped  upon  it.  A  little  girl  came  to  the  window  and 
looked  out  into  the  dark  street  where  the  snow  had  now 
begun  to  fall.  She  saw  the  child,  but  she  only  frowned 
and  shook  her  head  and  said,  "  Go  away  and  come  some 
other  time.  We  are  too  busy  to  take  care  of  you  now. " 
Back  into  the  dark,  cold  streets  he  turned  again.  The 
wind  was  whirling  past  him  and  seemed  to  say,  "Hurry 
on,  hurry  on,  we  have  no  time  to  stop.  'Tis  Christmas 
Eve  and  everybody  is  in  a  hurry  to-night. " 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES          99 

Again  and  again  the  little  child  rapped  softly  at  door 
or  window-pane.  At  each  place  he  was  refused  admis- 
sion. One  mother  feared  he  might  have  some  ugly 
disease  which  her  darlings  would  catch;  another  father 
said  he  had  only  enough  for  his  own  children  and  none 
to  spare  for  beggars.  Still  another  told  him  to  go  home 
where  he  belonged,  and  not  to  trouble  other  folks. 

The  hours  passed;  later  grew  the  night,  and  colder 
grew  the  wind,  and  darker  seemed  the  street.  Farther 
and  farther  the  little  one  wandered.  There  was 
scarcely  any  one  left  upon  the  street  by  this  time,  and 
the  few  who  remained  did  not  seem  to  see  the  child, 
when  suddenly  ahead  of  him  there  appeared  a  bright, 
single  ray  of  light.  It  shone  through  the  darkness  into 
the  child's  eyes.  He  looked  up  smilingly  and  said,  "I 
will  go  where  the  small  light  beckons,  perhaps  they  will 
share  their  Christmas  with  me. " 

Hurrying  past  all  the  other  houses,  he  soon  reached 
the  end  of  the  street  and  went  straight  up  to  the  win- 
dow from  which  the  light  was  streaming.  It  was  a 
poor,  little,  low  house,  but  the  child  cared  not  for  that. 
The  light  seemed  still  to  call  him  in.  From  what  do 
you  suppose  the  light  came?  Nothing  but  a  tallow 
candle  which  had  been  placed  in  an  old  cup  with  a 
broken  handle,  in  the  window,  as  a  glad  token  of  Christ- 
mas Eve.  There  was  neither  curtain  nor  shade  to  the 
small,  square  window  and  as  the  little  child  looked  hi 
he  saw  standing  upon  a  neat  wooden  table  a  branch  of 
a  Christmas  tree.  The  room  was  plainly  furnished, 


ioo        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

but  it  was  very  clean.  Near  the  fireplace  sat  a  lovely 
faced  mother  with  a  little  two-year-old  on  her  knee  and 
an  older  child  beside  her.  The  two  children  were  look- 
ing into  their  mother's  face  and  listening  to  a  story. 
She  must  have  been  telling  them  a  Christmas  story, 
I  think.  A  few  bright  coals  were  burning  in  the  fire- 
place, and  all  seemed  light  and  warm  within. 

The  little  wanderer  crept  closer  and  closer  to  the 
window-pane.  So  sweet  was  the  mother's  face,  so 
loving  seemed  the  little  children,  that  at  last  he  took 
courage  and  tapped  gently,  very  gently  on  the  door. 
The  mother  stopped  talking,  the  little  children  looked 
up.  "What  was  that,  mother?"  asked  the  little  girl 
at  her  side.  "I  think  it  was  some  one  tapping  on  the 
door,"  replied  the  mother.  "Run  as  quickly  as  you 
can  and  open  it,  dear,  for  it  is  a  bitter  cold  night  to  keep 
any  one  waiting  in  this  storm."  "Oh,  mother,  I 
think  it  was  the  bough  of  the  tree  tapping  against  the 
window-pane,"  said  the  little  girl.  "Do  please  go  on 
with  our  story."  Again  the  little  wanderer  tapped 
upon  the  door.  "My  child,  my  child,"  exclaimed  the 
mother,  rising,  "that  certainly  was  a  rap  on  the  door. 
Run  quickly  and  open  it.  No  one  must  be  left  out  in 
the  cold  on  our  beautiful  Christmas  Eve. " 

The  child  ran  to  the  door  and  threw  it  wide  open. 
The  mother  saw  the  ragged  stranger  standing  without, 
cold  and  shivering,  with  bare  head  and  almost  bare 
feet.  She  held  out  both  hands  and  drew  him  into  the 
warm,  bright  room.  "You  poor,  dear  child,"  was  all 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        101 

she  said,  and  putting  her  arms  around  him,  she  drew 
him  close  to  her  breast.  "He  is  very  cold,  my  chil- 
dren/7 she  exclaimed.  "We  must  warm  him."  "And," 
added  the  little  girl,  "we  must  love  him  and  give  him 
some  of  our  Christmas,  too. "  "  Yes, "  said  the  mother, 
"but  first  let  us  warm  him. " 

The  mother  sat  down  by  the  fire  with  the  little 
child  on  her  lap,  and  her  own  little  ones  warmed  his 
half-frozen  hands  in  theirs.  The  mother  smoothed  his 
tangled  curls,  and,  bending  low  over  his  head,  kissed 
the  child's  face.  She  gathered  the  three  little  ones  in  her 
arms  and  the  candle  and  the  fire  light  shone  over  them. 
For  a  moment  the  room  was  very  still.  By  and  by  the 
little  girl  said  softly,  to  her  mother,  "May  we  not  light 
the  Christmas  tree,  and  let  him  see  how  beautiful  it 
looks?"  "Yes,"  said  the  mother.  With  that  she 
seated  the  child  on  a  low  stool  beside  the  fire,  and  went 
herself  to  fetch  the  few  simple  ornaments  which  from 
year  to  year  she  had  saved  for  her  children's  Christ- 
mas tree.  They  were  soon  so  busy  that  they  did  not 
notice  the  room  had  filled  with  a  strange  and  brilliant 
light.  They  turned  and  looked  at  the  spot  where  the 
little  wanderer  sat.  His  ragged  clothes  had  changed 
to  garments  white  and  beautiful;  his  tangled  curls 
seemed  like  a  halo  of  golden  light  about  his  head;  but 
most  glorious  of  all  was  his  face,  which  shone  with  a 
light  so  dazzling  that  they  could  scarcely  look  upon  it. 

In  silent  wonder  they  gazed  at  the  child.  Their 
little  room  seemed  to  grow  larger  and  larger,  until  it 


102        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

was  as  wide  as  the  whole  world,  the  roof  of  their  low 
house  seemed  to  expand  and  rise,  until  it  reached  to 
the  sky. 

With  a  sweet  and  gentle  smile  the  wonderful  child 
looked  upon  them  for  a  moment,  and  then  slowly  rose 
and  floated  through  the  air,  above  the  treetops,  beyond 
the  church  spire,  higher  even  than  the  clouds  them- 
selves, until  he  appeared  to  them  to  be  a  shining  star 
in  the  sky  above.  At  last  he  disappeared  from  sight. 
The  astonished  children  turned  hi  hushed  awe  to  their 
mother,  and  said  hi  a  whisper,  "Oh,  mother,  it  was 
the  Christ-Child,  was  it  not?"  And  the  mother 
answered  in  a  low  tone,  "Yes. " 

AT  d  it  is  said,  dear  children,  that  each  Christmas 
Eve  the  little  Christ-Child  wanders  through  some 
town  or  village,  and  those  who  receive  him  and  take 
him  into  their  homes  and  hearts  have  given  to  them 
this  marvellous  vision  which  is  denied  to  others. 


j 


XI 
JIMMY  SCARECROW'S  CHRISTMAS 

MARY  E.   WILKINS  FREEMAN 

IMMY  SCARECROW  led  a  sad  life  in  the  winter. 
Jimmy's  greatest  grief  was  his  lack  of  occupation. 
He  liked  to  be  useful,  and  in  winter  he  was  absolutely 
of  no  use  at  all. 

He  wondered  how  many  such  miserable  winters  he 
would  have  to  endure.  He  was  a  young  Scarecrow, 
and  this  was  his  first  one.  He  was  strongly  made,  and 
although  his  wooden  joints  creaked  a  little  when  the 
wind  blew  he  did  not  grow  in  the  least  rickety.  Every 
morning,  when  the  wintry  sun  peered  like  a  hard  yellow 
eye  across  the  dry  corn-stubble,  Jimmy  felt  sad,  but  at 
Christmas  time  his  heart  nearly  broke. 

On  Christmas  Eve  Santa  Claus  came  in  his  sledge 
heaped  high  with  presents,  urging  his  team  of  reindeer 
across  the  field.  He  was  on  his  way  to  the  farmhouse 
where  Betsey  lived  with  her  Aunt  Hannah. 

Betsey  was  a  very  good  little  girl  with  very  smooth 
yellow  curls,  and  she  had  a  great  many  presents. 
Santa  Claus  hac}  a  large  wax  doll-baby  for  her  on  his 
arm,  tucked  up  against  the  fur  collar  of  his  coat.  He 
was  afraid  to  trust  it  in  the  pack,  lest  it  get  broken. 

103 


204        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

When  poor  Jimmy  Scarecrow  saw  Santa  Claus  his 
heart  gave  a  great  leap.  "  Santa  Claus !  Here  I  am ! " 
he  cried  out,  but  Santa  Claus  did  not  hear  him. 

"  Santa  Claus,  please  give  me  a  little  present.  I  was 
good  all  summer  and  kept  the  crows  out  of  the  corn," 
pleaded  the  poor  Scarecrow  in  his  choking  voice,  but 
Santa  Claus  passed  by  with  a  merry  halloo  and  a  great 
clamour  of  bells. 

Then  Jimmy  Scarecrow  stood  in  the  corn-stubble 
and  shook  with  sobs  until  his  joints  creaked.  "I  am 
of  no  use  in  the  world,  and  everybody  has  forgotten 
me, "  he  moaned.  But  he  was  mistaken. 

The  next  morning  Betsey  sat  at  the  window  holding 
her  Christmas  doll-baby,  and  she  looked  out  at  Jimmy 
Scarecrow  standing  alone  in  the  field  amidst  the  corn- 
stubble. 

"Aunt  Hannah?"  said  she.  Aunt  Hannah  was 
making  a  crazy  patchwork  quilt,  and  she  frowned  hard 
at  a  triangular  piece  of  red  silk  and  circular  piece  of 
pink,  wondering  how  to  fit  them  together.  "Well?" 
said  she. 

"Did  Santa  Claus  bring  the  Scarecrow  any  Christ- 
mas present?" 

"No,  of  course  he  didn't." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  he's  a  Scarecrow.  Don't  ask  silly  ques- 
tions." 

"I  wouldn't  like  to  be  treated  so,  if  I  was  a  Scare- 
crow," said  Betsey,  but  her  Aunt  Hannah  did  not  hear 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        105 

her.  She  was  busy  cutting  a  triangular  snip  out  of  the 
lound  piece  of  pink  silk  so  the  piece  of  red  silk  could  be 
feather-stitched  into  it. 

It  was  snowing  hard  out  of  doors,  and  the  north  wind 
blew.  The  Scarecrow's  poor  old  coat  got  whiter  and 
whiter  with  snow.  Sometimes  he  almost  vanished  in 
the  thick  white  storm.  Aunt  Hannah  worked  until  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  on  her  crazy  quilt.  Then  she 
got  up  and  spread  it  out  over  the  sofa  with  an  air 
of  pride. 

"There,"  said  she,  "that's  done,  and  that  makes 
the  eighth.  I've  got  one  for  every  bed  hi  the  house, 
and  I've  given  four  away.  I'd  give  this  away  if  I 
knew  of  anybody  that  wanted  it. " 

Aunt  Hannah  put  on  her  hood  and  shawl,  and  drew 
some  blue  yarn  stockings  on  over  her  shoes,  and  set  out 
through  the  snow  to  carry  a  slice  of  plum-pudding  to  her 
sister  Susan,  who  lived  down  the  road.  Half  an  hour 
after  Aunt  Hannah  had  gone  Betsey  put  her  little  red 
plaid  shawl  over  her  head,  and  ran  across  the  field  to 
Jimmy  Scarecrow.  She  carried  her  new  doll-baby 
smuggled  up  under  her  shawl. 

"Wish you  Merry  Christmas!"  she  said  to  Jimmy 
Scarecrow. 

"Wish  you  the  same,"  said  Jimmy,  but  his  voice 
was  choked  with  sobs,  and  was  also  muffled,  for  his  old 
hat  had  slipped  down  to  his  chin.  Betsey  looked 
pitifully  at  the  old  hat  fringed  with  icicles,  like  frozen 
tears,  and  the  old  snow-laden  coat.  *Tve  brought 


io6        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

you  a  Christmas  present, "  said  she,  and  with  that  she 
tucked  her  doll-baby  inside  Jimmy  Scarecrow's  coat, 
sticking  its  tiny  feet  into  a  pocket. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Jimmy  Scarecrow  faintly, 

"  You're  welcome, "  said  she.  "  Keep  her  under  your 
overcoat,  so  the  snow  won't  wet  her,  and  slw  won't 
catch  cold,  she's  delicate. " 

"Yes,  I  will,"  said  Jimmy  Scarecrow,  and  he  tried 
hard  to  bring  one  of  his  stiff,  outstretched  arms  around 
to  clasp  the  doll-baby. 

"Don't  you  feel  cold  in  that  old  summer  coat?" 
asked  Betsey. 

"If  I  had  a  little  exercise,  I  should  be  warm,"  he 
replied.  But  he  shivered,  and  the  wind  whistled 
through  his  rags. 

"You  wait  a  minute,"  said  Betsey,  and  w&s  off 
across  the  field. 

Jimmy  Scarecrow  stood  in  the  corn-stubble,  with  the 
doll-baby  under  his  coatr  and  waited,  and  soon  Betsey 
was  back  again  with  Aunt  Hannah's  crazy  quilt  trailing 
in  the  snow  behind  her. 

"Here,"  said  she,  "here  is  something  to  keep  you 
warm,"  and  she  folded  the  crazy  quilt  around  the 
Scarecrow  and  pinned  it. 

"Aunt  Hannah  wants  to  give  it  away  if  anybody 
wants  it,"  she  explained.  "She's  got  so  many  crazy 
quilts  hi  the  house  now  she  doesn't  know  what  to  do 
with  them.  Good-bye  —  be  sure  you  keep  the  doll- 
baby  covered  up."  And  with  that  she  ran  across  the 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        107 

field,  and  left  Jimmy  Scarecrow  alone  with  the  crazy 
quilt  and  the  doll-baby. 

The  bright  flash  of  colours  under  Jimmy's  hat-brim 
dazzled  his  eyes,  and  he  felt  a  little  alarmed.  "I  hope 
this  quilt  is  harmless  if  it  is  crazy,"  he  said.  But  the 
quilt  was  warm,  and  he  dismissed  his  fears.  Soon  the 
doll-baby  whimpered,  but  he  creaked  his  joints  a  little, 
and  that  amused  it,  and  he  heard  it  cooing  inside  his 
coat. 

Jimmy  Scarecrow  had  never  felt  so  happy  hi  his 
life  as  he  did  for  an  hour  or  so.  But  after  that  the 
snow  began  to  turn  to  rain,  and  the  crazy  quilt  was 
soaked  through  and  through:  and  not  only  that,  but 
his  coat  and  the  poor  doll-baby.  It  cried  pitifully  for 
a  while,  and  then  it  was  still,  and  he  was  afraid  it  was 
dead. 

It  grew  very  dark,  and  the  rain  fell  in  sheets,  the 
snow  melted,  and  Jimmy  Scarecrow  stood  halfway  up 
his  old  boots  in  water.  He  was  saying  to  himself  that 
the  saddest  hour  of  his  lif e  had  come,  when  suddenly 
he  again  heard  Santa  Claus'  sleigh-bells  and  his  merry 
voice  talking  to  his  reindeer.  It  was  after  midnight, 
Christmas  was  over,  and  Santa  was  hastening  home  to 
the  North  Pole. 

"Santa  Claus!  dear  Santa  Claus!"  cried  Jimmy 
Scarecrow  with  a  great  sob,  and  that  tune  Santa  Claus 
heard  him  and  drew  rein. 

"Who's  there?"  he  shouted  out  of  the  darkness. 

"It's  only  me,"  replied  the  Scarecrow. 


xo8        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"Who's  me?"  shouted  Santa  Claus. 

"Jimmy  Scarecrow!" 

Santa  got  out  of  his  sledge  and  waded  up.  "Have 
you  been  standing  here  ever  since  corn  was  ripe?" 
he  asked  pityingly,  and  Jimmy  replied  that  he 
had. 

"What's  that  over  your  shoulders?"  Santa  Claus 
continued,  holding  up  his  lantern. 

"It's  a  crazy  quilt." 

"And  what  are  you  holding  under  your  coat?  " 

"The  doll-baby  that  Betsey  gave  me,  and  I'm  afraid 
it's  dead, "  poor  Jimmy  Scarecrow  sobbed. 

"Nonsense!"  cried  Santa  Claus.  "Let  me  see  it!" 
And  with  that  he  pulled  the  doll-baby  out  from  under 
the  Scarecrow's  coat,  and  patted  its  back,  and  shook 
it  a  little,  and  it  began  to  cry,  and  then  to  crow.  "  It's 
all  right,"  said  Santa  Claus.  "This  is  the  doll-baby  I 
gave  Betsey,  and  it  is  not  at  all  delicate.  It  went 
through  the  measles,  and  the  chicken-pox,  and  the 
mumps,  and  the  whooping-cough,  before  it  left  the 
North  Pole.  Now  get  into  the  sledge,  Jimmy  Scare- 
crow, and  bring  the  doll-baby  and  the  crazy  quilt.  I 
have  never  had  any  quilts  that  weren't  in  their  right 
minds  at  the  North  Pole,  but  maybe  I  can  cure  this 
one.  Get  in!"  Santa  chirruped  to  his  reindeer, 
and  they  drew  the  sledge  up  close  hi  a  beautiful 
curve. 

"  Get  in,  Jimmy  Scarecrow,  and  come  with  me  to  the 
North  Pole!  "he  cried. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        109 

"Please,  how  long  shall  I  stay?"  asked  Jimmy 
Scarecrow. 

"Why,  you  are  going  to  live  with  me,"  replied  Santa 
Claus.  "I've  been  looking  for  a  person  like  you  for  a 
long  time." 

"Are  there  any  crows  to  scare  away  at  the  North 
Pole?  I  want  to  be  useful,"  Jimmy  Scarecrow  said, 
anxiously. 

"No,"  answered  Santa  Claus,  "but  I  don't  want 
you  to  scare  away  crows.  I  want  you  to  scare  away 
Arctic  Explorers.  I  can  keep  you  in  work  for  a  thou- 
sand years,  and  scaring  away  Arctic  Explorers  from  the 
North  Pole  is  much  more  important  than  scaring  away 
crows  from  corn.  Why,  if  they  found  the  Pole,  there 
wouldn't  be  a  piece  an  inch  long  left  in  a  week's  time, 
and  the  earth  would  cave  in  like  an  apple  without  a 
core!  They  would  whittle  it  all  to  pieces,  and  carry  it 
away  in  their  pockets  for  souvenirs.  Come  along;  I 
am  in  a  hurry." 

"I  will  go  on  two  conditions,"  said  Jimmy.  "First, 
I  want  to  make  a  present  to  Aunt  Hannah  and  Betsey, 
next  Christmas." 

"You  shall  make  them  any  present  you  choose. 
What  else?" 

"I  want  some  way  provided  to  scare  the  crows  out 
of  the  corn  next  summer,  while  I  am  away,"  said 
Jimmy. 

" That  is  easily  managed, "  said  Santa  Claus.  "Just! 
wait  a  minute." 


no        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Santa  took  his  stylographic  pen  out  of  his  pocket, 
went  with  his  lantern  close  to  one  of  the  fence-posts, 
and  wrote  these  words  upon  it: 

NOTICE  TO  CROWS 

Whichever  crow  shall  hereafter  hop,  fly,  or  flop  into  this  field 
during  the  absence  of  Jimmy  Scarecrow,  and  therefrom  purloin, 
steal,  or  abstract  corn,  shall  be  instantly,  in  a  twinkling  and  a 
trice,  turned  snow-white,  and  be  ever  after  a  disgrace,  a  by- 
word and  a  reproach  to  his  whole  race. 

Per  order  of  SANTA  CLAUS. 

"The  corn  will  be  safe  now,"  said  Santa  Claus, 
"get  in."  Jimmy  got  into  the  sledge  and  they  flew 
away  over  the  fields,  out  of  sight,  with  merry  halloos 
and  a  great  clamour  of  bells. 

The  next  morning  there  was  much  surprise  at  the 
farmhouse,  when  Aunt  Hannah  and  Betsey  looked  out 
of  the  window  and  the  Scarecrow  was  not  in  the  field 
holding  out  his  stiff  arms  over  the  corn  stubble.  Bet- 
sey had  told  Aunt  Hannah  she  had  given  away  the 
crazy  quilt  and  the  doll-baby,  but  had  been  scolded 
very  little. 

"You  must  not  give  away  anything  of  yours  again 
without  asking  permission,"  said  Aunt  Hannah. 
"  And  you  have  no  right  to  give  anything  of  mine,  even 
if  you  know  I  don't  want  it.  Now  both  my  pretty 
quilt  and  your  beautiful  doll-baby  are  spoiled. " 

That  was  all  Aunt  Hannah  had  said.    She  thought 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        in 

she  would  send  John  after  the  quilt  and  the  doll-baby 
next  morning  as  soon  as  it  was  light. 

But  Jimmy  Scarecrow  was  gone,  and  the  crazy  quilt 
and  the  doll-baby  with  him.  John,  the  servant-man, 
searched  everywhere,  but  not  a  trace  of  them  could  he 
find.  "They  must  have  all  blown  away,  mum,"  he 
said  to  Aunt  Hannah. 

"We  shall  have  to  have  another  scarecrow  next 
summer, "  said  she. 

But  the  next  summer  there  was  no  need  of  a  scare- 
crow, for  not  a  crow  came  past  the  fence-post  on  which 
Santa  Claus  had  written  his  notice  to  crows.  The  corn- 
field was  never  so  beautiful,  and  not  a  single  grain  was 
stolen  by  a  crow,  and  everybody  wondered  at  it,  for 
they  could  not  read  the  crow-language  in  which  Santa 
had  written. 

"It  is  a  great  mystery  to  me  why  the  crows  don't 
come  into  our  cornfield,  when  there  is  no  scarecrow," 
said  Aunt  Hannah. 

But  she  had  a  still  greater  mystery  to  solve  when 
Christmas  came  round  again.  Then  she  and  Betsey 
had  each  a  strange  present.  They  found  them  hi  the 
sitting-room  on  Christmas  morning.  Aunt  Hannah's 
present  was  her  old  crazy  quilt,  remodelled,  with  every 
piece  cut  square  and  true,  and  matched  exactly  to  its 
neighbour. 

"  Why,  it's  my  old  crazy  quilt,  but  it  isn't  crazy  now !" 
cried  Aunt  Hannah,  and  her  very  spectacles  seemed 
to  glisten  with  amazement. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Betsey's  present  was  her  doll-baby  of  the  Christmas 
before;  but  the  dofl  was  a  year  older.  She  had  grown 
an  inch,  and  could  walk  and  say,  "mamma,"  and  "how 
do?"  She  was  changed  a  good  deal,  but  Betsey  knew 
her  at  once.  "It's  my  doll-baby!"  she  cried,  and 
her  up  and  kissed  her. 


But  neither  Aunt  Hannah  nor  Betsey  ever  knew  that 
the  quilt  and  the  doll  were  Jimmy  Scarecrow's  Christ- 
mas presents  to  them. 


XH 
WHY  THE  CHIMES  RANG* 

RAYMOND  MCALDEH 

THERE  was  once  in  a  faraway  country  where  f ev> 
people  have  ever  travelled,  a  wonderful  church. 
It  stood  on  a  high  hill  in  the  midst  of  a  great  city;  and 
every  Sunday,  as  well  as  on  sacred  days  like  Christmas, 
thousands  of  people  climbed  the  hfll  to  its  great  arch- 
ways, looking  like  lines  of  ants  all  moving  in  the  same 
direction. 

When  you  came  to  the  building  itself,  you  found 
stone  columns  and  dark  passages,  and  a  grand  entrance 
leading  to  the  main  room  of  the  church.  This  room 
was  so  long  that  one  standing  at  the  doorway  could 
scarcely  see  to  the  other  end,  where  the  choir  stood 
by  the  marble  altar.  In  the  farthest  corner  was  the 
organ;  and  this  organ  was  so  loud,  that  sometimes 
when  it  played,  the  people  for  miles  around  would  dose 
their  shutters  and  prepare  for  a  great  thunderstorm. 
Altogether,  no  such  church  as  this  was  ever  seen  before, 
especially  when  it  was  lighted  up  for  some  festival, 
and  crowded  with  people,  young  and  old.  But  the 

"Copyright,  1906.     Used  by  special  pquusakn  at  the 


ii4        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

strangest  thing  about  the  whole  building  was  the  won- 
derful chime  of  bells. 

At  one  corner  of  the  church  was  a  great  gray  tower, 
with  ivy  growing  over  it  as  far  up  as  one  could  see. 
I  say  as  far  as  one  could  see,  because  the  tower  was 
quite  great  enough  to  fit  the  great  church,  and  it  rose 
so  far  into  the  sky  that  it  was  only  in  very  fair  weather 
that  any  one  claimed  to  be  able  to  see  the  top.  Even 
then  one  could  not  be  certain  that  it  was  in  sight.  Up, 
and  up,  and  up  climbed  the  stones  and  the  ivy;  and  as 
the  men  who  built  the  church  had  been  dead  for  hun- 
dreds of  years,  every  one  had  forgotten  how  high  the 
tower  was  supposed  to  be. 

Now  all  the  people  knew  that  at  the  top  of  the  tower 
was  a  chime  of  Christmas  bells.  They  had  hung  there 
ever  since  the  church  had  been  built,  and  were  the  most 
beautiful  bells  hi  the  world.  Some  thought  it  was 
because  a  great  musician  had  cast  them  and  arranged 
them  in  their  place;  others  said  it  was  because  of  the 
great  height,  which  reached  up  where  the  air  was 
clearest  and  purest;  however  that  might  be  no  one  who 
had  ever  heard  the  chimes  denied  that  they  were  the 
sweetest  in  the  world.  Some  described  them  as  sound- 
ing like  angels  far  up  in  the  sky;  others  as  sounding- 
like  strange  winds  singing  through  the  trees. 

But  the  fact  was  that  no  one  had  heard  them  for 
years  and  years.  There  was  an  old  man  living  not  far 
from  the  church  who  said  that  his  mother  had  spoken 
of  hearing  them  when  she  was  a  little  girl,  and  he  was. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        115 

the  only  one  who  was  sure  of  as  much  as  that.  They 
were  Christmas  chimes,  you  see,  and  were  not  meant 
to  be  played  by  men  or  on  common  days.  It  was  the 
custom  on  Christmas  Eve  for  all  the  people  to  bring 
to  the  church  their  offerings  to  the  Christ-Child;  and 
when  the  greatest  and  best  offering  was  laid  on  the  altar 
there  used  to  come  sounding  through  the  music  of  the 
choir  the  Christmas  chimes  far  up  in  the  tower.  Some 
said  that  the  wind  rang  them,  and  others,  that  they 
were  so  high  that  the  angels  could  set  them  swinging. 
But  for  many  long  years  they  had  never  been  heard. 
It  was  said  that  people  had  been  growing  less  careful 
of  their  gifts  for  the  Christ-Child,  and  that  no  offering 
was  brought  great  enough  to  deserve  the  music  of' 
the  chimes. 

Every  Christmas  Eve  the  rich  people  still  crowded 
to  the  altar,  each  one  trying  to  bring  some  better  gift 
than  any  other,  without  giving  anything  that  he  wanted 
for  himself,  and  the  church  was  crowded  with  those 
who  thought  that  perhaps  the  wonderful  bells  might 
be  heard  again.  But  although  the  service  was  splendid, 
and  the  offerings  plenty,  only  the  roar  of  the  wind  could 
be  heard,  far  up  in  the  stone  tower. 

Now,  a  number  of  miles  from  the  city,  in  a  little 
country  village,  where  nothing  could  be  seen  of  the  great 
church  but  glimpses  of  the  tower  when  the  weather 
was  fine,  lived  a  boy  named  Pedro,  and  his  little 
brother.  They  knew  very  little  about  the  Christmas 
chimes,  but  they  had  heard  of  the  service  in  the  church 


n6        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

on  Christmas  Eve,  and  had  a  secret  plan  which  they" 
had  often  talked  over  when  by  themselves,  to  go  to  see 
the  beautiful  celebration. 

"Nobody  can  guess,  Little  Brother,"  Pedro  would 
say;  "all  the  fine  things  there  are  to  see  and  hear;  and  I 
have  even  heard  it  said  that  the  Christ-Child  some- 
times comes  down  to  bless  the  service.  What  if  we 
could  see  Him?" 

The  day  before  Christmas  was  bitterly  cold,  with  a 
few  lonely  snowflakes  flying  in  the  air,  and  a  hard 
white  crust  on  the  ground.  Sure  enough  Pedro  and 
Little  Brother  were  able  to  slip  quietly  away  early  in 
the  afternoon;  and  although  the  walking  was  hard  in 
the  frosty  air,  before  nightfall  they  had  trudged  so  far, 
hand  in  hand,  that  they  saw  the  lights  of  the  big  city 
just  ahead  of  them.  Indeed  they  were  about  to  enter 
one  of  the  great  gates  in  the  wall  that  surrounded  it, 
when  they  saw  something  dark  on  the  snow  near  their 
path,  and  stepped  aside  to  look  at  it. 

It  was  a  poor  woman,  who  had  fallen  just  outside  the 
city,  too  sick  and  tired  to  get  in  where  she  might  have 
found  shelter.  The  soft  snow  made  of  a  drift  a  sort 
of  pillow  for  her,  and  she  would  soon  be  so  sound  asleep, 
in  the  wintry  air,  that  no  one  could  ever  waken  her 
again.  All  this  Pedro  saw  in  a  moment  and  he  knelt 
down  beside  her  and  tried  to  rouse  her,  even  tugging 
at  her  arm  a  little,  as  though  he  would  have  tried  to 
carry  her  away.  He  turned  her  face  toward  him,  so 
that  he  could  rub  some  of  the  snow  on  it,  and  when  he 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        117 

had  looked  at  her  silently  a  moment  he  stood  up  again, 
and  said: 

"It's  no  use,  Little  Brother.  You  will  have  to  go 
on  alone. " 

"Alone?  "cried  Little  Brother.  "And  you  not  see 
the  Christmas  festival?" 

"No,"  said  Pedro,  and  he  could  not  keep  back  a  bit 
of  a  choking  sound  in  his  throat.  "See  this  poor 
woman.  Her  face  looks  like  the  Madonna  in  the 
chapel  window,  and  she  will  freeze  to  death  if  nobody 
cares  for  her.  Every  one  has  gone  to  the  church  now, 
but  when  you  come  back  you  can  bring  some  one  to 
help  her.  I  will  rub  her  to  keep  her  from  freezing,  and 
perhaps  get  her  to  eat  the  bun  that  is  left  in  my 
pocket." 

"But  I  cannot  bear  to  leave  you,  and  go  on  alone, " 
said  Little  Brother. 

"Both  of  us  need  not  miss  the  service,"  said  Pedro, 
"  and  it  had  better  be  I  than  you.  You  can  easily  find 
your  way  to  church;  and  you  must  see  and  hear  every- 
thing twice,  Little  Brother  —  once  for  you  and  once 
for  me.  I  am  sure  the  Christ-Child  must  know  how  I 
should  love  to  come  with  you  and  worship  Him;  and 
oh!  if  you  get  a  chance,  Little  Brother,  to  slip  up  to  the 
altar  without  getting  in  any  one's  way,  take  this  little 
silver  piece  of  mine,  and  lay  it  down  for  my  offering, 
when  no  one  is  looking.  Do  not  forget  where  you  have 
left  me,  and  forgive  me  for  not  going  with  you. " 

In  this  way  he  hurried  Little  Brother  off  to  the  city 


n8        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

and  winked  hard  to  keep  back  the  tears,  as  he  heard 
the  crunching  footsteps  sounding  farther  and  farther 
away  in  the  twilight.  It  was  pretty  hard  to  lose  the 
music  and  splendour  of  the  Christmas  celebration  that 
he  had  been  planning  for  so  long,  and  spend  tne  time 
instead  in  that  lonely  place  in  the  snow. 

The  great  church  was  a  wonderful  place  that  night. 
Every  one  said  that  it  had  never  looked  so  bright  and 
beautiful  before.  When  the  organ  played  and  the 
thousands  of  people  sang,  the  walls  shook  with  the 
sound,  and  little  Pedro,  away  outside  the  city  wall,  felt 
the  earth  tremble  around  him. 

At  the  close  of  the  service  came  the  procession  with 
the  offerings  to  be  laid  on  the  altar.  Rich  men  and 
great  men  marched  proudly  up  to  lay  down  their  gifts 
to  the  Christ-Child.  Some  brought  wonderful  jewels, 
some  baskets  of  gold  so  heavy  that  they  could  scarcely 
carry  them  down  the  aisle.  A  great  writer  laid  down 
a  book  that  he  had  been  making  for  years  and  years. 
And  last  of  all  walked  the  king  of  the  country,  hoping 
with  all  the  rest  to  win  for  himself  the  chime  of  the 
Christmas  bells.  There  went  a  great  murmur  through 
the  church  as  the  people  saw  the  king  take  from  his 
head  the  royal  crown,  all  set  with  precious  stones,  and 
lay  it  gleaming  on  the  altar,  as  his  offering  to  the  Holy 
Child.  "Surely,"  every  one  said,  "we  shall  hear  the 
bells  now,  for  nothing  like  this  has  ever  happened 
before." 

But  still  only  the  cold  old  wind  was  heard  in  the 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        119 

tower  and  the  people  shook  their  heads;  and  some  of 
them  said,  as  they  had  before,  that  they  never  really 
believed  the  story  of  the  chimes,  and  doubted  if  they 
ever  rang  at  all. 

The  procession  was  over,  and  the  choir  began  the 
closing  hymn.  Suddenly  the  organist  stopped  playing, 
and  every  one  looked  at  the  old  minister,  who  was  stand- 
ing by  the  altar,  holding  up  his  hand  for  silence.  Not  a 
sound  could  be  heard  from  any  one  hi  the  church,  but 
as  all  the  people  strained  their  ears  to  listen,  there  came 
softly,  but  distinctly,  swinging  through  the  air,  the 
the  sound  of  the  chimes  hi  the  tower.  So  far  away, 
and  yet  so  clear  the  music  seemed  —  so  much 
sweeter  were  the  notes  than  anything  that  had  been 
heard  before,  rising  and  falling  away  up  there  in  the 
sky,  that  the  people  in  the  church  sat  for  a  moment  as 
still  as  though  something  held  each  of  them  by  the 
shoulders.  Then  they  all  stood  up  together  and  stared 
straight  at  the  altar,  to  see  what  great  gift  had  awak- 
ened the  long  silent  bells. 

But  all  that  the  nearest  of  them  saw  was  the  childish 
figure  of  Little  Brother,  who  had  crept  softly  down  the 
aisle  when  no  one  was  looking,  and  had  laid  Pedro's 
little  piece  of  silver  on  the  altar. 


xin 

THE  BIRDS'  CHRISTMAS 

F,  E.   MANN 

Founded  on  fact. 

HICKADEE-DEE-DEE-DEE !  Chickadee-dee- 

dee-dee!  Chicka "  "Cheerup,  cheerup, 

chee-chee!  Cheerup,  cheerup,  chee-chee!"  "Ter-ra- 
lee,  ter-ra-lee,  ter-ra-lee!" 

"Rap-atap-atap-atap! "  went  the  woodpecker;  "  Mrsi 
Chickadee  may  speak  first. " 

"Friends,"  began  Mrs.  Chickadee,  "why  do  you 
suppose  I  called  you  together?" 

"Because  it's  the  day  before  Christmas,"  twittered 
Snow  Bunting.  "And  you're  going  to  give  a  Christ- 
mas party,"  chirped  the  Robin.  "And  you  want  us 
all  to  come!"  said  Downy  Woodpecker.  "Hurrah! 
Three  cheers  for  Mrs.  Chickadee!" 

"Hush!"  said  Mrs.  Chicakadee,  "and  I'll  tell  you 
all  about  it.  To-morrow  is  Christmas  Day,  but  I  don't 
want  to  give  a  party. " 

"Chee,  chee,  chee!"  cried  Robin  Rusty-breast; 
"chee,  chee,  chee!" 

"Just  listen  to  my  little  plan,"  said  Mrs.  Chickadee, 

*From  "In  the  Child's  World,"  by  Emilie  Poulsscn,  Milton  Bradley  Co., 
Publishers.    Used  by  permission. 

i  to 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        121 

"for,  indeed,  I  want  you  all  to  help.  How  many  re- 
member Thistle  Goldfinch  —  the  happy  little  fellow 
who  floated  over  the  meadows  through  the  summer 
and  fall?" 

"Cheerup,  chee-chee,  cheerup,  chee-chee,  I  do," 
sang  the  Robin; "  how  he  loved  to  sway  on  thistletops!" 
"Yes,"  said  Downy  Woodpecker,  "and  didn't  he  sing? 
All  about  blue  skies,  and  sunshine  and  happy  days, 
with  his  'Swee-e-et-sweet-sweet-sweet-a-twitter-witter- 
witter-witter-wee-twea ! ' ' 

"  Ter-ra-lee,  ter-ra-lee, "  said  Snow  Bunting.  "  We've 
all  heard  of  Thistle  Goldfinch,  but  what  can  he  have 
to  do  with  your  Christmas  party?  He's  away  down 
South  now,  and  wouldn't  care  if  you  gave  a  dozen 
parties. " 

"Oh,  but  he  isn't;  he's  right  in  these  very 
woods!" 

"Why,  you  don't  mean " 

"  Indeed  I  do  mean  it,  every  single  word.  Yesterday 
I  was  flitting  about  among  the  trees,  pecking  at  a  dead 
branch  here,  and  a  bit  of  moss  there,  and  before  I  knew  it 
I  found  myself  away  over  at  the  other  side  of  the  woods ! 
'  Chickadee-dee-dee,  chickadee-dee-dee!'  I  sang,  as  1 
turned  my  bill  toward  home.  Just  then  I  heard  the  sad- 
dest little  voice  pipe  out:  'Dear-ie  me!  Dear-ie  me!' 
and  there  on  the  sunny  side  of  a  branch  perched  a  lone- 
some bit  of  yellowish  down.  I  went  up  to  see  what  it 
was,  and  found  dear  little  Thistle  Goldfinch!  He  was 
very  glad  to  see  me,  and  soon  told  his  short  story. 


122        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Through  the  summer  Papa  and  Mamma  Goldfinch 
and  all  the  brothers  and  sisters  had  a  fine  time,  singing 
together,  fluttering  over  thistletops,  or  floating  through 
the  balmy  air.  But  when  'little  Jack  Frost  walked 
through  the  trees,'  Papa  Goldfinch  said:  'It  is  high 
time  we  went  South !'  All  were  ready  but  Thistle;  he 
wanted  to  stay  through  the  winter,  and  begged  so  hard 
that  Papa  Goldfinch  soberly  said:  'Try  it,  my  son, 
but  do  find  a  warm  place  to  stay  in  at  night.'  Then  off 
they  flew,  and  Thistle  was  alone.  For  a  while  he  was 
happy.  The  sun  shone  warm  through  the  middle  of 
the  day,  and  there  were  fields  and  meadows  full  of  seeds. 
You  all  remember  how  sweetly  he  sang  for  us  then. 
But  by  and  by  the  cold  North  Wind  came  whistling 
through  the  trees,  and  chilly  Thistle  woke  up  one  gray 
morning  to  find  the  air  full  of  whirling  snowflakes 
He  didn't  mind  the  light  snows,  golden-rod  and  some 
high  grasses  were  too  tall  to  be  easily  covered,  and  he 
got  seeds  from  them.  But  now  that  the  heavy  snows 
have  come,  the  poor  little  fellow  is  almost  starved,  and 
if  he  doesn't  have  a  warm  place  to  sleep  in  these  cold 
nights,  he'll  surely  die!" 

Mrs.  Chickadee  paused  a  minute.  The  birds  were 
so  still  one  could  hear  the  pine  trees  whisper.  Then 
she  went  on:  "I  comforted  the  poor  little  fellow  as 
best  I  could,  and  showed  him  where  to  find  a  few  seeds: 
then  I  flew  home,  for  it  was  bedtime.  I  tucked  my 
head  under  my  wing  to  keep  it  warm,  and  thought,  and 
thought,  and  thought;  and  here's  my  plan: 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        123 

"We  Chickadees  have  a  nice  warm  home  here  in  the 
spruce  trees,  with  their  thick,  heavy  boughs  to  shut  out 
the  snow  and  cold.  There  is  plenty  of  room,  so  Thistle 
could  sleep  here  all  winter.  We  would  let  him  perch  on 
a  branch,  when  we  Chickadees  would  nestle  around  him 
until  he  was  as  warm  as  in  the  lovely  summer  time. 
These  cones  are  so  full  of  seeds  that  we  could  spare 
him  a  good  many;  and  I  think  that  you  Robins 
might  let  him  come  over  to  your  pines  some  day 
and  share  your  seeds.  Downy  Woodpecker  must 
keep  his  eyes  open  as  he  hammers  the  trees,  and 
if  he  spies  a  supply  of  seeds  he  will  let  us  know 
at  once.  Snow  Bunting  is  only  a  visitor,  so  I  don't 
expect  him  to  help,  but  I  wanted  him  to  hear  my 
plan  with  the  rest  of  you.  Now  you  will  try,  won't 
you,  every  one?" 

"Cheerup,  cheerup,  ter-ra-lee!  Indeed  we'll  try; 
let's  begin  right  away!  Don't  wait  until  to-morrow; 
who'll  go  and  find  Thistle?" 

"I  will,"  chirped  Robin  Rusty-breast,  and  off  he 
flew  to  the  place  which  Mrs.  Chickadee  had  told  of,  at 
the  other  side  of  the  wood.  There,  sure  enough,  he 
found  Thistle  Goldfinch  sighing:  "Dear-ie  me!  dear-ie 
me!  The  winter  is  so  cold  and  I'm  here  all  alone!" 
"Cheerup,  chee-chee!"  piped  the  Robin: 

"Cheerup,  cheerup,  I'm  here! 

I'm  here  and  I  mean  to  stay. 
What  if  the  winter  is  drear  — 
Cheerup,  cheerup  anyway!" 


124        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"But  the  snow  is  so  deep,"  said  Thistle,  and  the 
Robin  replied: 

"Soon  the  snows'll  be  over  and  gone, 

Run  and  rippled  away; 
What's  the  use  of  looking  forlorn? 
Cheerup,  dieerup,  I  say!" 

Then  he  told  Thistle  all  their  plans,  and  wasn't 
Thistle  surprised?  Why,  he  just  couldn't  believe  a 
word  of  it  till  they  reached  Mrs.  Chickadee's 
and  she  said  it  was  all  true.  They  fed  him  and 
warmed  him,  then  settled  themselves  for  a  good 
night's  rest. 

Christmas  morning  they  were  chirping  gaily,  and 
Thistle  was  trying  to  remember  the  happy  song  he  sang 
in  the  summer  time,  when  there  came  a  whirr  of  wings 
as  Snow  Bunting  flew  down. 

"Ter-ra-lee,  ter-ra-lee,  ter-ra-lee,"  said  he,  "can  you 
fly  a  little  way?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  Thistle.  "I  think  I  could  fly  a 
long  way." 

"Come  on,  then,"  said  Snow  Bunting.  "Every 
one  who  wants  a  Christmas  dinner,  follow  me!" 
That  was  every  word  he  would  say,  so  what  could  they 
do  but  follow? 

Soon  they  came  to  the  edge  of  the  wood,  and  then  to 
a  farmhouse.  Snow  Bunting  flew  straight  up  to  the 
piazza,  and  there  stood  a  dear  little  girl  hi  a  warm  hood 
and  cloak,  with  a  pail  of  bird-seed  on  her  arm,  and  a 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        125 

dish  of  bread  crumbs  in  her  hand.  As  they  flew  down, 
she  said: 

"And  here  are  some  more  birdies  who  have  come  for 
a  Christmas  dinner.  Of  course  you  shall  have  some, 
you  dear  little  things!"  and  she  laughed  merrily  to  see 
them  dive  for  the  crumbs. 

After  they  had  finished  eating,  Elsie  (that  was  the 
little  girl's  name)  said:  "Now,  little  birds,  it  is  going 
to  be  a  cold  winter,  you  would  better  come  here  every 
day  to  get  your  dinner.  I'll  always  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"Cheerup  chee-chee,  cheerup  chee-chee!  thank  you, 
thank  you,"  cried  the  Robins. 

"Ter-ra-lee,  ter-ra-lee,  ter-ra-lee!  thank  you,  thank 
you!"  twittered  Snow  Bunting. 

"  Chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee,  chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee, 
chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee!  how  kind  you  are!"  sang 
the  Chickadees. 

And  Thistle  Goldfinch?  Yes,  he  remembered  his 
summer  song,  for  he  sang  as  they  flew  away: 

"  Swee-e-et  -  sweet-sweet-sweet-a-twitter-witter  -  wit- 
ter-witter~wee-twea ! " 

NOTES.  —  i.  The  Robin's  song  is  from  "  Bird  Talks, "  by  Mrs.  A.  D.  T. 
Whitney. 

2.  The  fact  upon  which  this  story  is  based  —  that  is  of  the  other  birds 
adopting  and  wanning  the  solitary  Thistle  Goldfinch  —  was  observed  near 
Northampton,  Mass.,  where  robins  and  other  migratory  birds  sometimes 
upend  the  winter  in  the  thick  pine  woods. 


XIV 
THE  LITTLE  SISTER'S  VACATION* 

WINIFRED  M.    KIRKLAND 

JT  WAS  to  be  a  glorious  Christmas  at  Doctor 
Brower's.  All  "the  children" —  little  Peggy  and 
her  mother  always  spoke  of  the  grown-up  ones  as  "the 
children" — were  coming  home.  Mabel  was  coming 
from  Ohio  with  her  big  husband  and  her  two  babies, 
Minna  and  little  Robin,  the  year-old  grandson  whom 
the  home  family  had  never  seen ;  Hazen  was  coming  all 
the  way  from  the  Johns  Hopkins  Medical  School,  and 
Arna  was  coming  home  from  her  teaching  in  New  York. 

It  was  a  trial  to  Peggy  that  vacation  did  not  begin 
until  \he  very  day  before  Christmas,  and  then  continued 
only  one  niggardly  week.  After  school  hours  she  had 
helped  her  mother  in  the  Christmas  preparations  every 
day  until  she  crept  into  bed  at  night  with  aching  arms 
and  tired  feet,  to  lie  there  tossing  about,  whether  from 
weariness  or  glad  excitement  she  did  not  know. 

"Not  so  hard,  daughter,"  the  doctor  said  to  her  once. 

"Oh,  papa,"  protested  her  mother,  "when  we're  so 
busy,  and  Peggy  is  so  handy!" 

"Not  so  hard,"  he  repeated,  with  his  eyes  on  fifteen- 

*This  story  was  first  published  in  the  Youth's  Companion,  vol.  77. 

126 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        127 

year-old  Peggy's  delicate  face,  as,  wearing  her  braids 
pinned  up  on  her  head  and  a  pinafore  down  to  her  toes, 
she  stoned  raisins  and  blanched  almonds,  rolled  bread 
crumbs  and  beat  eggs,  dusted  and  polished  and  made 
ready  for  the  children. 

Finally,  after  a  day  of  flying  about,  helping  with  the 
many  last  thing,  Peggy  let  down  her  braids  and  put 
on  her  new  crimson  shirtwaist,  and  stood  with  her 
mother  in  the  front  doorway,  for  it  was  Christmas  Eve 
at  last,  and  the  station  'bus  was  rattling  up  with  the 
first  homecomers,  Arna  and  Hazen. 

Then  there  were  voices  ringing  up  and  down  the  dark 
street,  and  there  were  happy  tears  in  the  mother's 
eyes,  and  Arna  had  taken  Peggy's  face  in  her  two  soft- 
gloved  hands  and  lifted  it  up  and  kissed  it,  and  Hazen 
had  swung  his  little  sister  up  in  the  air  just  as  of  old. 
Peggy's  tired  feet  were  dancing  for  joy.  She  was  help- 
ing Arna  take  off  her  things,  was  carrying  her  bag 
upstairs  —  would  have  carried  Hazen's  heavy  grip,  too, 
only  her  father  took  it  from  her. 

"Set  the  kettle  to  boil,  Peggy,"  directed  her  mother; 
"then  run  upstairs  and  see  if  Arna  wants  anything. 
We'll  wait  supper  till  the  rest  come. " 

The  rest  came  on  the  nine  o'clock  train,  such  a  load 
of  them  —  the  big,  bluff  brother-in-law,  Mabel,  plump 
and  laughing,  as  always,  Minna,  elfin  and  bright-eyed, 
and  sleepy  Baby  Robin.  Such  hugging,  such  a  hubbub 
of  baby  talk!  How  many  things  there  seemed  to  be 
to  do  for  those  precious  babies  right  away! 


128        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Peggy  was  here  and  there  and  everywhere.  Every- 
thing was  in  joyous  confusion.  Supper  was  to  be  set 
on,  too.  While  the  rest  ate,  Peggy  sat  by,  holding 
Robin,  her  own  little  nephew,  and  managing  at  the 
same  time  to  pick  up  the  things  —  napkin,  knife,  spoon, 
bread  —  that  Minna,  hilarious  with  the  ]ate  hour, 
flung  from  her  high  chair. 

It  seemed  as  if  they  would  never  be  all  stowed  away 
for  the  night.  Some  of  them  wanted  pitchers  of  warm 
water,  some  of  them  pitchers  of  cold,  and  the  alcohol 
stove  must  be  brought  up  for  heating  the  baby's  milk 
at  night.  The  house  was  crowded,  too.  Peggy  had 
given  up  her  room  to  Hazen,  and  slept  on  a  cot  in  the 
sewing  room  with  Minna. 

The  cot  had  been  enlarged  by  having  three  chairs 
piled  with  pillows,  set  along  the  side.  But  Minna 
preferred  to  sleep  in  the  middle  of  the  cot,  or  else  across 
it,  her  restless  little  feet  pounding  at  Peggy's  ribs;  and 
Peggy  was  unused  to  any  bedfellow. 

She  lay  long  awake  thinking  proudly  of  the  children, 
of  Hazen,  the  tall  brother,  with  his  twinkling  eyes,  his 
drolleries,  his  teasing;  of  graceful  Arna  who  dressed  so 
daintily,  talked  so  cleverly,  and  had  been  to  college. 
Arna  was  going  to  send  Peggy  to  college,  too  —  it  was 
so  good  of  Arna!  But  for  all  Peggy's  admiration  for 
Arna,  it  was  Mabel,  the  eldest  sister,  who  was  the  more 
approachable.  Mabel  did  not  pretend  even  to  as  much 
learning  as  Peggy  had  herself;  she  was  happy-go-lucky 
and  sweet-tempered.  Then  her  husband  was  a  great 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        129 

jolly  fellow,  with  whom  it  was  impossible  to  be  shy,  and 
the  babies  —  there  never  were  such  cunning  babies, 
Peggy  thought.  Just  here  her  niece  gave  her  a  partic- 
ularly vicious  kick,  and  Peggy  opposed  to  her  train  of 
admiring  thoughts,  "But  I'm  so  tired." 

It  did  not  seem  to  Peggy  that  she  had  been  asleep  at 
all  when  she  was  waked  with  a  vigorous  pounding  on 
her  chest  and  a  shrill  little  voice  in  her  ear: 

"Ch'is'mus,  Ch'is'mus,  Ch'is'mus!  It's  mornin'! 
It'sCh'is'mus!" 

"Oh,  no,  it  isn't,  Minna!"  pleaded  Peggy,  struggling 
with  sleepiness.  "  It's  all  dark  still. " 

"  Ch'is'mus,  Ch'is'mus,  Ch'is'mus ! "  reiterated 
Minna  continuing  to  pound. 

"Hush,  dear!  You'll  wake  Aunt  Arna,  and  she's 
tired  after  being  all  day  on  the  chou-chou  cars. " 

"Merry  Ch'is'mus,  Aunty  Arna!"  shouted  the 
irrepressible  Minna. 

"Oh,  darling,  be  quiet!  We'll  play  little  pig  goes  to 
market.  I'll  tell  you  a  story,  only  be  quiet  a  little 
while." 

It  took  Peggy's  utmost  effort  to  keep  the  little 
wriggler  still  for  the  hour  from  five  to  six.  Then, 
however,  her  shrill,  "Merry  Ch'is'mus!"  roused  the 
household.  Protests  were  of  no  avail.  Minna  was 
the  only  granddaughter,  Dark  as  it  was,  people  must 
get  up. 

Peggy  must  dress  Minna  and  then  hurry  down  to 
help  get  breakfast  —  not  so  easy  a  task  with  Minna 


I3o        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

ever  at  one's  heels.    The  quick-moving  sprite  seemed 
to  be  everywhere  —  into  the  sugar-bowl,  the  cooky  jar, 
the  steaming  teakettle  —  before  one  could  turn  about 
Urged  on  by  the  impatient  little  girl,  the  grown-ups 
made  short  work  of  breakfast. 

After  the  meal,  according  to  time-honoured  B rower 
custom,  they  formed  in  procession,  single  file,  Minna 
first,  then  Ben  with  Baby  Robin.  They  each  held 
aloft  a  sprig  of  holly,  and  they  all  kept  time  as  they 
sang,  "  God  rest  you,  merry  gentlemen, "  in  their  march 
from  the  dining-room  to  the  office.  And  there  they 
must  form  in  circle  about  the  tree,  and  dance  three- 
times  round,  singing  "The  Christmas-tree  is  an  ever- 
green, "  before  they  could  touch  a  single  present. 

The  presents  are  done  up  according  to  custom,  pack- 
ages of  every  shape  and  size,  but  all  in  white  paper  and 
tied  with  red  ribbon,  and  all  marked  for  somebody  with 
somebody  else's  best  love.  They  all  fall  to  opening, 
and  the  babies'  shouts  are  not  the  only  ones  to  be  heard. 

Passers-by  smile  indulgently  at  the  racket,  remem- 
bering that  all  the  B  rowers  are  home  for  Christmas,  and 
the  B  rowers  were  ever  a  jovial  company. 

Peggy  gazes  at  her  gifts  quietly,  but  with  shining 
eyes  —  little  gold  cuff  pins  from  Hazen,  just  like  Arna's; 
a  set  of  furs  from  Mabel  and  Ben;  but  she  likes  Arna's 
gift  best  of  all,  a  complete  set  of  her  favourite  author. 

But  much  as  they  would  like  to  linger  about  the 
Christmas  tree,  Peggy  and  her  mqther,  at  least,  must 
remember  that  the  dishes  must  be  washed  and  the  beds 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        131 

made,  and  that  the  family  must  get  ready  for  church. 
Peggy  does  not  go  to  church,  and  nobody  dreams  how 
much  she  wants  to  go.  She  loves  the  Christmas  music. 
No  hymn  rings  so  with  joy  as: 

Jerusalem  triumphs,  Messiah  is  king. 

The  choir  sings  it  only  once  a  year,  on  the  Christmas 
morning.  Besides,  her  chum  Esther  will  be  at  church, 
and  Peggy  has  been  too  busy  to  go  to  see  her  since  she 
came  home  from  boarding-school  for  the  holidays. 
But  somebody  must  stay  at  home,  and  that  somebody 
who  but  Peggy?  Somebody  must  baste  the  turkey, 
and  prepare  the  vegetables  and  take  care  of  the 
babies. 

Peggy  is  surprised  to  find  how  difficult  it  is  to  com- 
bine dinner-getting  with  baby-tending.  When  she 
opens  the  oven-door,  there  is  Minna's  head  thrust  up 
under  her  arm,  the  inquisitive  little  nose  in  great  danger 
by  reason  of  sputtering  gravy. 

"Minna,"  protests  Peggy,  "you  mustn't  eat  another 
bit  of  candy!"  and  Minna  opens  her  mouth  in  a  howl, 
prolonged,  but  without  tears  and  without  change  of 
colour.  Robin  joins  in,  he  does  not  know  why.  Peggy 
is  a  doting  aunt,  but  an  honest  one.  She  is  vexed  by  a 
growing  conviction  that  Mabel's  babies  are  sadly 
spoiled.  Peggy  is  ashamed  of  herself;  surely  she  ought 
to  be  perfectly  happy  playing  with  Minna  and  Robin. 
Instead,  she  finds  that  the  thing  she  would  like  best  of 
all  to  be  doing  at  this  moment,  next  to  going  to  church, 


I32        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

would  be  to  be  lying  on  her  father's  couch  in  the  office, 
.all  by  herself,  reading. 

The  dinner  is  a  savoury  triumph  for  Peggy  and  her 
mother.  The  gravy  and  the  mashed  potato  are  entirely 
of  Peggy's  workmanship,  and  Peggy  has  had  a  hand 
in  most  of  the  other  dishes,  too,  as  the  mother  proudly 
tells.  How  that  merry  party  can  eat!  Peggy  is 
waitress,  and  it  is  long  before  the  passing  is  over,  and 
she  can  sit  down  in  her  own  place.  She  is  just  as  fond 
of  the  unusual  Christmas  good  things  as  are  the  rest, 
but  somehow,  before  she  is  well  started  at  her  turkey, 
it  is  time  for  changing  plates  for  dessert,  and  before  she 
has  tasted  her  nuts  and  raisins  the  babies  have  sue 
cumbed  to  sleepiness,  and  it  is  Peggy  who  must  carry 
them  upstairs  for  their  nap  —  just  in  the  middle  of 
one  of  Hazen's  funniest  stories,  too. 

And  all  the  tune  the  little  sister  is  so  ready,  so  quickly 
serviceable,  that  somehow  nobody  notices  —  nobody 
but  the  doctor.  It  is  he  who  finds  Peggy,  half  a»  hou) 
later,  all  alone  in  the  kitchen.  The  mother  and  the 
older  daughters  are  gathered  about  the  sitting-room 
hearth,  engaged  in  the  dear,  delicious  talk  about  the 
little  things  that  are  always  left  out  of  letters. 

The  doctor  interrupts  them. 

"Peggy  is  all  alone,"  he  says. 

''But  we're  having  such  a  good  talk,"  the  mother 
pleads,  "and  Peggy  will  be  done  in  no  time!  Peggy 
is  so  handy!" 

"Well,  girls?"  is  all  the  doctor  says,  with  quiet  com- 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        133 

mand  in  his  eyes,  and  Peggy  is  not  left  to  wash  the 
Christmas  dishes  ail  alone.  Because  she  is  smiling 
and  her  cheeks  are  bright,  her  sisters  do  not  notice  that 
her  eyes  are  wet,  for  Peggy  is  hotly  ashamed  of  certain 
thoughts  and  feelings  that  she  cannot  down.  She  for- 
gets them  for  a  while,  however,  sitting  on  the  hearth- 
rug, snuggled  against  her  father's  knee  in  the  Christmas 
twilight. 

Yet  the  troublesome  thoughts  came  back  in  the  even- 
ing, when  Peggy  sat  upstairs  in  the  dark  with  Minna, 
vainly  trying  to  induce  the  excited  little  girl  to  go  to 
sleep,  while  bursts  of  merriment  from  the  family  below 
were  always  breaking  in  upon  the  two  in  their  banish- 
ment. 

There  was  another  restless  night  of  it  with  the  little 
aiece,  and  another  too  early  waking.  Everybody  but 
Minna  was  sleepy  enough,  and  breakfast  was  a  pro- 
tracted meal,  to  which  the  "children"  came  down  slowly 
Dne  by  one.  Arna  did  not  appear  at  all,  and  Peggy 
carried  up  to  her  the  daintiest  of  trays,  all  of  her  own 
preparing.  Arna's  kiss  of  thanks  was  great  reward. 
It  was  dinner-time  before  Peggy  realized  it,  and  she  had 
hoped  to  find  a  quiet  hour  for  her  Latin. 

The  dreadful  regent's  examination  was  to  come  the 
next  week,  and  Peggy  wanted  to  study  for  it.  She  had 
once  thought  of  asking  Arna  to  help  her,  but  Arna 
seemed  so  tired. 

In  the  afternoon  Esther  came  to  see  her  chum,  and 
to  take  her  home  with  her  to  spend  the  night.  The 


134        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

babies,  fretful  with  after-Christmas-crossness,  were 
tumbling  over  their  aunt,  and  sadly  interrupting  con- 
fidences, while  Peggy  explained  that  she  could  not  go 
out  that  evening.  All  the  family  were  going  to  the 
church  sociable,  and  she  must  put  the  babies  to  bed. 

"I  think  it's  mean,"  Esther  broke  in.  "Isn't  it 
your  vacation  as  well  as  theirs?  Do  make  that  child 
stop  pulling  your  hair ! " 

If  Esther's  words  had  only  not  echoed  through 
Peggy's  head  as  they  did  that  night!  "But  it  is  so 
mean  of  me,  so  mean  of  me,  to  want  my  own  vacation ! " 
sobbed  Peggy  in  the  darkness.  "  I  ought  just  to  be  glad 
they're  all  at  home." 

Her  self-reproach  made  her  readier  than  ever  to  wait 
,on  them  all  the  next  morning.  Nobody  could  make 
such  buckwheat  cakes  as  could  Mrs.  B rower;  nobody 
could  turn  them  as  could  Peggy.  They  were  worth 
coming  from  New  York  and  Baltimore  and  Ohio 
to  eat.  Peggy  stood  at  the  griddle  half  an  hour,  an 
hour,  two  hours.  Her  head  was  aching.  Hazen,  the 
latest  riser,  was  joyously  calling  for  more. 

At  eleven  o'clock  Peggy  realized  that  she  had  had  no 
breakfast  herself,  and  that  her  mother  was  hurrying 
her  off  to  investigate  the  lateness  of  the  butcher. 
Her  head  ached  more  and  more,  and  she  seemed 
strangely  slow  in  her  dinner-getting  and  dish-washing. 
Her  father  was  away,  and  there  was  no  one  tc 
help  in  the  clearing-up.  It  was  three  before  she  had 
finished. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        135 

Outside  the  sfeigh-bells  sounded  enticing.  It  was 
the  first  sleighing  of  the  season.  Mabel  and  Ben  had 
been  off  for  a  ride,  and  Arna  and  Hazen,  too.  How 
Peggy  longed  to  be  skimming  over  the  snow  instead  of 
polishing  knives  all  alone  in  the  kitchen.  Sue  Cum- 
mings  came  that  afternoon  to  invite  Peggy  to  her  party, 
given  in  Esther's  honour.  Sue  enumerated  six  other 
gatherings  that  were  being  given  that  week  in  honour 
of  Esther's  visit  home.  Sue  seemed  to  dwell  much 
on  the  subject.  Presently  Peggy,  with  hot  cheeks,  un- 
derstood why.  Everybody  was  giving  Esther  a  party, 
everybody  but  Peggy  herself.  Esther's  own  chum, 
and  all  the  other  girls,  were  talking  about  it. 

Peggy  stood  at  the  door  to  see  Sue  out,  and  watched 
the  sleighs  fly  by.  Out  in  the  sitting-room  she  heard 
her  mother  saying,  "  Yes,  of  course  we  can  have  waffles 
for  supper.  Where's  Peggy?  "  Then  Peggy  ran  away. 

In  the  wintry  dusk  the  doctor  came  stamping  in, 
shaking  the  snow  from  his  bearskins.  As  always, 
u  Where's  Peggy?  "  was  his  first  question. 

Peggy  was  not  to  be  found,  they  told  him.  They  had 
been  all  over  the  house,  calling  her.  They  thought  she 
must  have  gone  out  with  Sue.  The  doctor  seemed  to 
doubt  this.  He  went  through  the  upstairs  rooms, 
calling  her  softly.  But  Peggy  was  not  in  any  of  the 
bedrooms,  or  in  any  of  the  closets,  either.  There  was 
still  the  kitchen  attic  to  be  tried. 

There  came  a  husky  little  moan  out  of  its  depths,  as 
he  whispered,  "Daughter ! ' '  He  groped  his  way  to  her, 


136        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

and  sitting  down  on  a  trunk,  folded  her  into  his  bear- 
skin coat. 

"Now  tell  father  all  about  it,"  he  said.  And  it  all 
came  out  with  many  sobs  —  the  nights  and  dawns  with 
Minna,  the  Latin,  the  sleighing,  Esther's  party,  break- 
fast, the  weariness,  the  headache;  and  last  the  waffles, 
which  had  moved  the  one  unbearable  thing. 

"And  it  is  so  mean  of  me,  so  mean  of  mei"  sobbed 
Peggy.  "But,  oh,  daddy,  I  do  want  a  vacation!" 

"And  you  shall  have  one,"  he  answered. 

He  carried  her  straight  into  her  own  room,  laid 
her  down  on  her  own  bed,  and  tumbled  Hazen's  things 
into  the  hall.  Then  he  went  downstairs  and  talked 
to  his  family. 

Presently  the  mother  came  stealing  in.  bearing  a 
glass  of  medicine  the  doctor-father  had  sent.  Then 
she  undressed  Peggy  and  put  her  to  bed  as  if  she  had 
been  a  baby,  and  sat  by,  smoothing  her  nair,  until 
she  fell  asleep. 

It  seemed  to  Peggy  that  she  had  slept  a  long,  long 
time.  The  sun  was  shining  bright.  Her  door  opened 
a  crack  and  Arna  peeped  in,  and  seeing  her  awake, 
came  to  the  bed  and  kissed  her  good  morning. 

" I'm  so  sorry,  little  sister! "  she  said. 

"Sorry  for  what?"  asked  the  wondering  Peggy. 

"Because  I  didn't  see,"  said  Arna.  "But  now  I'm 
going  to  bring  up  your  breakfast." 

"Oh,  no!"  cried  Peggy,  sitting  up. 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Arna,  with   quiet  authority.    It 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        137 

was  as  dainty  cooking  as  Peggy's  own,  and  Arna  sat 
by  to  watch  her  eat. 

"  You're  so  good  to  me,  Arna! "  said  Peggy. 

"Not  very,"  answered  Arna,  dryly.  "When  you've 
finished  this  you  must  lie  up  here  away  from  the  children 
and  read." 

"But  who  will  take  care  of  Minna?"  questioned 
Peggy. 

"Minna's  mamma,"  answered  a  voice  from  the  next 
room,  where  Mabel  was  pounding  pillows.  She  came 
to  the  door  to  look  in  on  Peggy  in  all  her  luxury  of 
orange  marmalade  to  eat,  Christmas  books  to  read, 
and  Arna  to  wait  upon  her. 

"I  think  mothers,  not  aunts,  were  meant  to  look 
after  babies,"  said  Mabel.  "I'm  so  sorry,  dear!" 

"Oh,  I  wish  you  two  wouldn't  talk  like  that!"  cried 
Peggy.  "  I'm  so  ashamed." 

"All  right,  we'll  stop  talking,"  said  Mabel  quickly, 
"  but  we'll  remember." 

They  would  not  let  Peggy  lift  her  hand  to  any  of  the 
work  that  day.  Mabel  managed  the  babies  master- 
fully. Arna  moved  quietly  about,  accomplishing  won- 
ders. 

"  But  aren't  you  tired,  Arna?  "  queried  i^eggy. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  and  I'll  have  time  to  help  you  with 
your  Caesar  before " 

"Before  what?"  asked  Peggy,  but  got  no  answer. 
They  had  been  translating  famously,  when,  in  the  late 
afternoon,  there  came  a  ring  of  the  doorbell. 


I38        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

found  Hazen  bowing  low,  and  craving  "  Mistress  Peggy's 
company."  A  sleigh  and  two  prancing  horses  stood 
at  the  gate. 

It  was  a  glorious  drive.  Peggy's  eyes  danced  and 
her  laugh  rang  out  at  Hazen's  drolleries.  The  world 
stretched  white  all  about  them,  and  their  horses  flew 
on  and  on  like  the  wind.  They  rode  till  dark,  then 
turned  back  to  the  village,  twinkling  with  lights. 

The  Brower  bouse  was  alight  in  every  window,  and 
there  was  the  sound  of  many  voices  in  the  hall.  The 
door  flew  open  upon  a  laughing  crowd  of  boys  and  girls. 
Peggy,  all  glowing  and  rosy  with  the  wind,  stood  utterly 
bewildered  until  Esther  rushed  forward  and  hugged 
and  shook  her. 

"  It's  a  party ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  One  of  your  mother's 
waffle  suppers!  We're  all  here!  Isn't  it  splendid?" 

"But,  but,  but "  stammered  Peggy. 

"'But,  but,  but/"  mimicked  Esther.  "But  this 
is  your  vacation,  don't  you  see?  " 


XV 

LITTLE   WOLFF'S   WOODEN   SHOES 

A  CHRISTMAS   STORY   BY   FRANCOIS   COPPEEJ   ADAPTED  AND 
TRANSLATED   BY  ALMA   J.   FOSTER 

ONCE  upon  a  time  —  so  long  ago  that  everybody 
has  forgotten  the  date  —  in  a  city  in  the  north  of 
Europe  —  with  such  a  hard  name  that  nobody  can 
ever  remember  it  —  there  was  a  little  seven-year-old 
boy  named  Wolff,  whose  parents  were  dead,  who  lived 
with  a  cross  and  stingy  old  aunt,  who  never  thought 
tof  kissing  him  more  than  once  a  year  and  who  sighed 
deeply  whenever  she  gave  him  a  bowlful  of  soup. 

But  the  poor  little  fellow  had  such  a  sweet  nature 
that  in  spite  of  everything,  he  loved  the  old  woman, 
although  he  was  terribly  afraid  of  her  and  could  never 
look  at  her  ugly  old  face  without  shivering. 

As  this  aunt  of  little  Wolff  was  known  to  have  a  house 
of  her  own  and  an  old  woollen  stocking  full  of  gold,  she 
had  not  dared  to  send  the  boy  to  a  charity  school;  but, 
in  order  to  get  a  reduction  in  the  price,  she  had  so 
wrangled  with  the  master  of  the  school,  to  which  little 
Wolff  finally  went,  that  this  bad  man,  vexed  at  having 
a  pupil  so  poorly  dressed  and  paying  so  little,  often  pun- 
ished him  unjustly,  and  even  prejudiced  his  companions 

139 


I4o        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

against  him,  so  that  the  three  boys,  all  sons  of  rich 
parents,  made  a  drudge  and  laughing  stock  of  the  little 
fellow. 

The  poor  little  one  was  thus  as  wretched  as  a  child 
could  be  and  used  to  hide  himself  in  corners  to  weep 
whenever  Christmas  tune  came. 

It  was  the  schoolmaster's  custom  to  take  all  his 
pupils  to  the  midnight  mass  on  Christmas  Eve,  and  to 
bring  them  home  again  afterward. 

Now,  as  the  winter  this  year  was  very  bitter,  and  as 
heavy  snow  had  been  falling  for  several  days,  all  the 
boys  came  well  bundled  up  in  warm  clothes,  with  fur 
caps  pulled  over  their  ears,  padded  jackets,  gloves  and 
knitted  mittens,  and  strong,  thick-soled  boots.  Only 
little  Wolff  presented  himself  shivering  in  the  poor 
clothes  he  used  to  wear  both  weekdays  and  Sundays  and 
having  on  his  feet  only  thin  socks  in  heavy  wooden 
shoes. 

His  naughty  companions  noticing  his  sad  face  and 
awkward  appearance,  made  many  jokes  at  his  expense; 
but  the  little  fellow  was  so  busy  blowing  on  his  fingers, 
and  was  suffering  so  much  with  chilblains,  that  he  took 
no  notice  of  them.  So  the  band  of  youngsters,  walking 
two  and  two  behind  the  master,  started  for  the  church. 

It  was  pleasant  in  the  church  which  was  brilliant 
with  lighted  candles;  and  the  boys  excited  by  the 
warmth  took  advantage  of  the  music  of  the  choir  and 
the  organ  to  chatter  among  themselves  in  low  tones. 
They  bragged  about  the  fun  that  was  awaiting  them 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        141 

at  home.  The  mayor's  son  had  seen,  just  before 
starting  off,  an  immense  goose  ready  stuffed  and  dressed 
for  cooking.  At  the  alderman's  home  there  was  a  little 
pine-tree  with  branches  laden  down  with  oranges, 
sweets,  and  toys.  And  the  lawyer's  cook  had  put 
on  her  cap  with  such  care  as  she  never  thought  of 
taking  unless  she  was  expecting  something  very  good! 

Then  they  talked,  too,  of  all  that  the  Christ-Child  was 
going  to  bring  them,  of  all  he  was  going  to  put  in  their 
shoes  which,  you  might  be  sure,  they  would  take  good 
care  to  leave  in  the  chimney  place  before  going  to  bed; 
and  the  eyes  of  these  little  urchins,  as  lively  as  a  cage 
of  mice,  were  sparkling  in  advance  over  the  joy  they 
would  have  when  they  awoke  in  the  morning  and 
saw  the  pink  bag  full  of  sugar-plums,  the  little  lead 
soldiers  ranged  in  companies  in  their  boxes,  the  menag-, 
eries  smelling  of  varnished  wood,  and  the  magnificent!, 
jumping-jacks  in  purple  and  tinsel. 

Alas!  Little  Wolff  knew  by  experience  that  his 
old  miser  of  an  aunt  would  send  him  to  bed  supperless, 
but,  with  childlike  faith  and  certain  of  having  been, 
all  the  year,  as  good  and  industrious  as  possible,  he 
hoped  that  the  Christ-Child  would  not  forget  him, 
and  so  he,  too,  planned  to  place  his  wooden  shoes  in 
good  time  in  the  fireplace. 

Midnight  mass  over,  the  worshippers  departed, 
eager  for  their  fun,  and  the  band  of  pupils  always 
walking  two  and  two,  and  following  the  teacher,  left 
the  church. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Now,  in  the  porch  and  seated  on  a  stone  bench  set 
in  the  niche  of  a  painted  arch,  a  child  was  sleeping  — 
a  child  in  a  white  woollen  garment,  but  with  his  little 
feet  bare,  in  spite  of  the  cold.  He  was  not  a  beggar, 
for  his  garment  was  white  and  new,  and  near  him  on 
the  floor  was  a  bundle  of  carpenter's  tools. 

In  the  clear  light  of  the  stars,  his  face,  with  its 
closed  eyes,  shone  with  an  expression  of  divine  sweet- 
ness, and  his  long,  curling,  blond  locks  seemed  to  form 
a  halo  about  his  brow.  But  his  little  child's  feet, 
made  blue  by  the  cold  of  this  bitter  December  night, 
were  pitiful  to  see ! 

The  boys  so  well  clothed  for  the  winter  weather  passed 
by  quite  indifferent  to  the  unknown  child;  several 
of  them,  sons  of  the  notables  of  the  town,  however, 
cast  on  the  vagabond  looks  in  which  could  be  read  all 
the  scorn  of  the  rich  for  the  poor,  of  the  well-fed  for 
the  hungry. 

But  little  Wolff,  coming  last  out  of  the  church, 
stopped,  deeply  touched,  before  the  beautiful  sleeping 
child 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  the  little  fellow  to  himself,  "this 
is  frightful!  This  poor  little  one  has  no  shoes  and 
stockings  in  this  bad  weather  —  and,  what  is  still 
worse,  he  has  not  even  a  wooden  shoe  to  leave  near  him 
to-night  while  he  sleeps,  into  which  the  little  Christ- 
Child  can  put  something  good  to  soothe  his  misery." 

And  carried  away  by  his  loving  heart,  Wolff  drew  the 
Wooden  shoe  from  his  right  foot,  laid  it  down  before 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        143 

the  sleeping  child,  and,  as  best  he  could,  sometimes 
hopping,  sometimes  limping  with  his  sock  wet  by  the 
snow,  he  went  home  to  his  aunt. 

"Look  at  the  good-for-nothing!"  cried  the  old 
woman,  full  of  wrath  at  the  sight  of  the  shoeless  boy. 
"What  have  you  done  with  your  shoe,  you  little 
villain?" 

Little  Wolff  did  not  know  how  to  lie,  so,  although 
trembling  with  terror  when  he  saw  the  rage  of  the 
old  shrew,  he  tried  to  relate  his  adventure. 

But  the  miserly  old  creature  only  burst  into  a 
frightful  fit  of  laughter. 

"Aha!  So  my  young  gentleman  strips  himself 
for  the  beggars.  Aha!  My  young  gentleman  breaks 
his  pair  of  shoes  for  a  bare-foot!  Here  is  something 
new,  forsooth.  Very  well,  since  it  is  this  way,  I  shall 
put  the  only  shoe  that  is  left  into  the  chimney-place, 
and  I'll  answer  for  it  that  the  Christ-Child  will  put  in 
something  to-night  to  beat  you  with  in  the  morning! 
And  you  will  have  only  a  crust  of  bread  and  water 
to-morrow.  And  we  shall  see  if  the  next  time,  you 
will  be  giving  your  shoes  to  the  first  vagabond  that 
happens  along." 

And  the  wicked  woman  having  boxed  the  ears  of 
the  poor  little  fellow,  made  him  climb  up  into  the  loft 
where  he  had  his  wretched  cubbyhole. 

Desolate,  the  child  went  to  bed  in  the  dark  and  soon 
fell  asleep,  but  his  pillow  was  wet  with  tears. 

But  behold !  the  next  morning  when  the  old  woman, 


144        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

awakened  early  by  the  cold,  went  downstairs  —  oh, 
wonder  of  wonders  —  she  saw  the  big  chimney  filled 
with  shining  toys,  bags  of  magnificent  bonbons,  and 
riches  of  every  sort,  and  standing  out  in  front  of  all 
this  treasure,  was  the  right  wooden  shoe  which  the 
boy  had  given  to  the  little  vagabond,  yes,  and  beside  it, 
the  one  which  she  had  placed  in  the  chimney  to  hold 
the  bunch  of  switches. 

As  little  Wolff,  attracted  by  the  cries  of  his  aunt, 
stood  in  an  ecstasy  of  childish  delight  before  the 
splendid  Christmas  gifts,  shouts  of  laughter  were 
heard  outside.  The  woman  and  child  ran  out  to  see 
what  all  this  meant,  and  behold!  all  the  gossips  of  the 
town  were  standing  around  the  public  fountain. 
What  could  have  happened?  Oh,  a  most  ridiculous 
and  extraordinary  thing!  The  children  of  the  richest 
men  in  the  town,  whom  their  parents  had  planned 
to  surprise  with  the  most  beautiful  presents  had  found 
only  switches  in  their  shoes! 

Then  the  old  woman  and  the  child  thinking  of  all 
the  riches  in  their  chimney  were  filled  with  fear.  But 
suddenly  they  saw  the  priest  appear,  his  countenance 
full  of  astonishment.  Just  above  the  bench  placed 
near  the  door  of  the  church,  in  the  very  spot  where, 
the  night  before,  a  child  in  a  white  garment  and  with 
bare  feet,  in  spite  of  the  cold,  had  rested  his  lovely 
head,  the  priest  had  found  a  circlet  of  goid  imbedded 
in  the  old  stones. 

Then,  they  all  crossed  themselves  devoutly,  per- 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        141 

ceiving  that  this  beautiful  sleeping  child  with  the 
carpenter's  tools  had  been  Jesus  of  Nazareth  himself, 
who  had  come  back  for  one  hour  just  as  he  had  been 
when  he  used  to  work  in  the  home  of  his  parents;  and 
reverently  they  bowed  before  this  miracle,  which  the 
good  God  had  done  to  reward  the  faith  and  the  love 
of  a  little  child. 


XVI 

CHRISTMAS  IN  THE  ALLEY* 

OLIVE   THORNE  MILLER 

I  DECLARE  for  't,  to-morrow  is  Christmas  Day 
an'  I  clean  forgot  all  about  it,"  said  old  Ann,  the 
washerwoman,  pausing  in  her  work  and  holding  the 
flatiron  suspended  in  the  air. 

"Much  good  it'll  do  us,"  growled  a  discontented 
voice  from  the  coarse  bed  in  the  corner. 

"We  haven't  much  extra,  to  be  sure,"  answered 
Ann  cheerfully,  bringing  the  iron  down  onto  the  shirfc- 
bosom  before  her,  "but  at  least  we've  enough  to  eat, 
and  a  good  fire,  and  that's  more'r  some  have,  not  a 
thousand  miles  from  here  either." 

"We  might  have  plenty  more,"  said  the  fretful 
voice,  "if  you  didn't  think  so  much  more  of  strangers 
than  you  do  of  your  own  folk's  comfort,  keeping  a 
houseful  of  beggars,  as  if  you  was  a  lady ! " 

"Now,  John,"  replied  Ann,  taking  another  iron 
from  the  fire,  "you're  not  half  so  bad  as  you  pretend. 
You  wouldn't  have  me  turn  them  poor  creatures  into 
the  streets  to  freeze,  now,  would  you?" 

"It's  none  of  our  business  to  pay  rent  for  them," 
grumbled  John.  "Every  one  for  himself,  I  say, 

*From  "Kristy's  Queer  Christmas,"  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  1904. 

146 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES       14? 

these  hard  times.  If  they  can't  pay  you'd  ought  to 
send  'em  off;  there's  plenty  as  can." 

"They'd  pay  quick  enough  if  they  could  get  work," 
said  Ann.  "  They  're  good  honest  fellows,  every  one, 
and  paid  me  regular  as  long  as  they  had  a  cent.  But 
when  hundreds  are  out  o'  work  in  the  city,  what  can 
they  do?" 

"That's  none  o'  your  business,  you  can  turn  'em 
out ! "  growled  John. 

"And  leave  the  poor  children  to  freeze  as  well  as 
starve?"  said  Ann.  "Who'd  ever  take  'em  in  without 
money,  I'd  like  to  know?  No,  John,"  bringing  her 
iron  down  as  though  she  meant  it,  "I'm  glad  I'm 
well  enough  to  wash  and  iron,  and  pay  my  rent, 
and  so  long  as  I  can  do  that,  and  keep  the  hunger 
away  from  you  and  the  child,  I'll  never  turn  the  poor 
souls  out,  leastways,  not  in  this  freezing  winter 
weather." 

"An'  here's  Christmas,"  the  old  man  went  on  whin- 
ingly,  "an'  not  a  penny  to  spend,  an'  I  needin'  another 
blanket  so  bad,  with  my  rhumatiz,  an'  haven't  had 
a  drop  of  tea  for  I  don't  know  how  long! " 

"I  know  it,"  said  Ann,  never  mentioning  that  she 
too  had  been  without  tea,  and  not  only  that,  but  with 
small  allowance  of  food  of  any  kind,  "and  I'm  desperate 
sorry  I  can't  get  a  bit  of  something  for  Katey.  The 
child  never  missed  a  little  something  in  her  stocking 
before." 

"Yes,"  John  struck  in,  "much  you  care  for  your 


148        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

flesh  an'  blood.  The  child  ha'n't  had  a  thing  this 
winter." 

"That's  true  enough/'  said  Ann,  with  a  sigh,  "an' 
it's  the  hardest  thing  of  all  that  I've  had  to  keep  her 
out  o'  school  when  she  was  doing  so  beautiful." 

"An'  her  feet  all  on  the  ground,"  growled  John. 

"I  know  her  shoes  is  bad,"  said  Ann,  hanging  the 
shirt  up  on  a  line  that  stretched  across  the  room,  and 
was  already  nearly  full  of  freshly  ironed  clothes,  "but 
they're  better  than  the  Parker  children's." 

"What's  that  to  us?"  almost  shouted  the  weak  old 
man,  shaking  his  fist  at  her  in  his  rage. 

"Well,  keep  your  temper,  old  man,"  said  Ann. 
"I'm  sorry  it  goes  so  hard  with  you,  but  as  long  as  I 
can  stand  on  my  feet,  I  sha'n't  turn  anybody  out  to 
freeze,  that's  certain." 

"How  much'll  you  get  for  them?"  said  the  miserable 
old  man,  after  a  few  moments'  silence,  indicating  by 
his  hand  the  clean  clothes  on  the  line. 

"Two  dollars,"  said  Ann,  "and  half  of  it  must 
go  to  help  make  up  next  month's  rent.  I've  got 
a  good  bit  to  make  up  yet,  and  only  a  week  to  do 
it  in,  and  I  sha'n't  have  another  cent  till  day  after 
to-morrow." 

"Well,  I  wish  you'd  manage  to  buy  me  a  little  tea," 
whined  the  old  man;  "seems  as  if  that  would  go  right 
to  the  spot,  and  warm  up  my  old  bones  a  bit.' 

"I'll  try,"  said  Ann,  revolving  in  her  mind  how  she 
could  save  a  few  pennies  from  her  indispensable 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

purchases  to  get  tea  and  sugar,  for  without  sugar  he 
would  not  touch  it. 

Wearied  with  his  unusual  exertion,  the  old  man  now 
dropped  off  to  sleep,  and  Ann  went  softly  about,  folding 
and  piling  the  clothes  into  a  big  basket  already  half 
full.  When  they  were  all  packed  in,  and  nicely  covered 
with  a  piece  of  clean  muslin,  she  took  an  old  shawl  and 
hood  from  a  nail  in  the  corner,  put  them  on,  blew  out 
the  candle,  for  it  must  not  burn  one  moment  unneces- 
sarily, and,  taking  up  her  basket,  went  out  into  the 
cold  winter  night,  softly  closing  the  door  behind 
her. 

The  house  was  on  an  alley,  but  as  soon  as  she  turned 
the  corner  she  was  in  the  bright  streets,  glittering  with 
lamps  and  gay  people.  The  shop  windows  were  bril- 
liant with  Christmas  displays,  and  thousands  of  warmly 
dressed  buyers  were  lingering  before  them,  laughing 
and  chatting,  and  selecting  their  purchases.  Surely  it 
seemed  as  if  there  could  be  no  want  here. 

As  quickly  as  her  burden  would  let  her,  the  old 
washerwoman  passed  through  the  crowd  into  a  broad 
street  and  rang  the  basement  bell  of  a  large,  showy 
house. 

"Oh,  it's  the  washerwoman!"  said  a  flashy-looking 
servant  who  answered  the  bell;  "set  the  basket  right 
in  here.  Mrs.  Keithe  can't  look  them  over  to-night, 
there's  company  in  the  parlour  —  Miss  Carry's  Christ- 
mas party." 

"Ask  her  to  please  pay  me  —  at  least  a  part,"  sai4 


150        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

old  Ann  hastily.    "I  don't  see  how  I  can  do  without 
the  money.    I  counted  on  it." 

"I'll  ask  her,"  said  the  pert  young  woman,  turning  tc 
go  upstairs;  "but  it's  no  use." 

Returning  in  a  moment,  she  delivered  the  message. 
"She  has  no  change  to-night;  you're  to  come  in  the 
morning." 

"Dear  me!"  thought  Ann,  as  she  plodded  back 
through  the  streets,  "it'll  be  even  worse  than  I  expected, 
for  there's  not  a  morsel  to  eat  hi  the  house,  and  not 
a  penny  to  buy  one  with.  Well  —  well  —  the  Lord  will 
provide,  the  Good  Book  says,  but  it's  mighty  dark 
days,  and  it's  hard  to  believe." 

Entering  the  house,  Ann  sat  down  silently  before 
the  expiring  fire.  She  was  tired,  her  bones  ached,  and 
"ishe  was  faint  for  want  of  food. 

>  Wearily  she  rested  her  head  on  her  hands,  and  tried 
to  think  of  some  way  to  get  a  few  cents.  She  had 
nothing  she  could  sell  or  pawn,  everything  she  could 
do  without  had  gone  before,  in  similar  emergencies, 
After  sitting  there  some  time,  and  revolving  plan  after 
plan,  only  to  find  them  all  impossible,  she  was  forced 
to  conclude  that  they  must  go  supperless  to  bed. 

Her  husband  grumbled,  and  Katey  —  who  came  in 
from  a  neighbour's  —  cried  with  hunger,  and  after 
they  were  asleep  old  Ann  crept  into  bed  to  keep  warm, 
more  disheartened  than  she  had  been  all  winter. 

If  we  could  only  see  a  little  way  ahead!  All  this 
time  —  the  darkest  the  house  on  the  alley  had  seen • 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        151 

aelp  was  on  the  way  to  them.  A  kind-hearted  city 
missionary,  visiting  one  of  the  unfortunate  families 
living  in  the  upper  rooms  of  old  Ann's  house,  had 
learned  from  them  of  the  noble  charity  of  the  humble 
old  washerwoman.  It  was  more  than  princely  charity, 
for  she  not  only  denied  herself  nearly  every  comfort, 
but  she  endured  the  reproaches  of  her  husband,  and 
the  tears  of  her  child. 

Telling  the  story  to  a  party  of  his  friends  this  Christ- 
mas Eve,  their  hearts  were  troubled,  and  they  at  once 
emptied  their  purses  into  his  hands  for  her.  And  the 
gift  was  at  that  very  moment  in  the  pocket  of  the 
missionary,  waiting  for  morning  to  make  her  Christ- 
mas happy. 

Christmas  morning  broke  clear  and  cold.  Ann  was 
up  early,  as  usual,  made  her  fire, with  the  last  of  her  coal, 
cleared  up  her  two  rooms,  and,  leaving  her  husband 
and  Katey  in  bed,  was  about  starting  out  to  try  and 
get  her  money  to  provide  a  breakfast  for  them.  At 
the  door  she  met  the  missionary. 

"Good-morning,  Ann,"  said  he.  "I  wish  you  a 
Merry  Christmas." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Ann  cheerfully;  "the  same 
to  yourself." 

"Have  you  been  to  breakfast  already?"  asked  the 
missionary. 

"No,  sir,"  said  Ann.     "I  was  just  going  out  for  it." 

"I  haven't  either,"  said  he,  "but  I  couldn't  beat 
to  wait  until  I  had  eaten  breakfast  before  I  brought  you 


152        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

your  Christmas  present  —  I  suspect  you  haven't  had 
any  yet." 

Ann  smiled.  "Indeed,  sir,  I  haven't  had  one  since 
I  can  remember." 

"Well,  I  have  one  for  you.  Como  in,  and  I'll  tell 
you  about  it." 

Too  much  amazed  for  words,  Ann  led  him  into  the 
room.  The  missionary  opened  his  purse,  and  handed 
her  a  roll  of  bills. 

"  Why  —  what !"  she  gasped,  taking  it  mechanically. 

"  Some  friends  of  mine  heard  of  your  generous  treat- 
ment of  the  poor  families  upstairs,"  he  went  on,  "and 
they  send  you  this,  with  their  respects  and  best  wishes 
for  Christmas.  Do  just  what  you  please  with  it  —  it 
is  wholly  yours.  No  thanks,"  he  went  on,  as  she 
struggled  to  speak.  "It's  not  from  me.  Just  enjoy 
it  —  that's  all.  It  has  done  them  more  good  to  give 
than  it  can  you  to  receive,"  and  before  she  could  speak 
a  word  he  was  gone. 

What  did  the  old  washerwoman  do? 

Well,  first  she  fell  on  her  knees  and  buried  her  agi- 
tated face  in  the  bedclothes.  After  a  while  she  became 
aware  of  a  storm  of  words  from  her  husband,  and  she 
got  up,  subdued  as  much  as  possible  her  agitation, 
and  tried  to  answer  his  frantic  questions. 

"How  much  did  he  give  yt>u,  old  stupid?"  he 
screamed;  "can't  you  speak,  or  are  you  struck  dumb? 
Wake  up!  I  just  wish  I  could  reach  you!  I'd  shake  you 
till  your  teeth  rattled!" 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        153 

If  his  vicious  looks  were  a  sign,  it  was  evident  that 
he  only  lacked  the  strength  to  be  as  good  as  his  word. 

Ann  roused  herself  from  her  stupour  and  spoke  at  last. 

"I  don't  know.  I'll  count  it."  She  unrolled  the 
bills  and  began. 

"O  Lord!"  she  exclaimed  excitedly,  "here's  ten- 
dollar  bills!  One,  two,  three,  and  a  twenty  —  that 
makes  five  —  and  five  are  fifty-five  —  sixty  —  seventy 
—  eighty  —  eighty-five  —  ninety  —  one  hundred  — 
and  two  and  five  are  seven,  and  two  and  one  are  ten, 
twenty  —  twenty-five  —  one  hundred  and  twenty-five! 
Why,  I'm  rich!"  she  shouted.  "Bless  the  Lord! 
Oh,  this  is  the  glorious  Christmas  Day!  I  knew  He'd 
provide.  Katey!  Katey!"  she  screamed  at  the  door 
of  the  other  room,  where  the  child  lay  asleep.  "  Merry 
Christmas  to  you,  darlin' !  Now  you  can  have  some 
shoes!  and  a  new  dress!  and  —  and  —  breakfast,  and 
a  regular  Christmas  dinner!  Oh!  I  believe  I  shall  go 
crazy!" 

But  she  did  not.  Joy  seldoms  hurts  people,  and  she 
was  brought  back  to  everyday  affairs  by  the  querulous 
voice  of  her  husband. 

"Now  I  will  have  my  tea,  an'  a  new  blanket,  an' 
some  tobacco  —  how  I  have  wanted  a  pipe!"  and  he 
went  on  enumerating  his  wants  while  Ann  bustled 
about,  putting  away  most  of  her  money,  and  once  more 
getting  ready  to  go  out. 

"I'll  run  out  and  get  some  breakfast,"  she  said 
"but  don't  you  tell  a  soul  about  the  money." 


i$4        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"No!  they'll  rob  us!"  shrieked  the  old  man. 

"Nonsense!  I'll  hide  it  well,  but  I  want  to  keep  it  a 
secret  for  another  reason.  Mind,  Katey ,  don't  you  tell?" 

"No!"  said  Katey,  with  wide  eyes.  "But  can  I 
truly  have  a  new  frock,  Mammy,  and  new  shoes  — 
and  is  it  really  Christmas?" 

"It's  really  Christmas,  darlin',"  said  Ann,  "and 
you'll  see  what  mammy'll  bring  home  to  you,  after 
breakfast." 

The  luxurious  meal  of  sausages,  potatoes,  and  hot  tea 
was  soon  smoking  on  the  table,  and  was  eagerly  de- 
voured by  Katey  and  her  father.  But  Ann  could  not  eat 
much.  She  was  absent-minded,  and  only  drank  a  cup 
of  tea.  As  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  she  left  Katey 
to  wash  the  dishes,  and  started  out  again. 
\  She  walked  slowly  down  the  street,  revolving  a  great 
plan  in  her  mind. 

"Let  me  see,"  she  said  to  herself.  "They  shall  have 
a  happy  day  for  once.  I  suppose  John '11  grumble,  but 
the  Lord  has  sent  me  this  money,  and  I  mean  to  use 
part  of  it  to  make  one  good  day  for  them." 

Having  settled  this  in  her  mind,  she  walked  on  more 
quickly,  and  visited  various  shops  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. When  at  last  she  went  home,  her  big  basket 
was  stuffed  as  full  as  it  could  hold,  and  she  carried  a 
bundle  besides. 

"Here's  your  tea,  John,"  she  said  cheerfully,  as 
she  unpacked  the  basket,  "a  whole  pound  of  it,  and 
sugar,  and  tobacco,  and  a  new  pipe." 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        155 

"Give  me  some  now,"  said  the  old  man  eagerly; 
"don't  wait  to  take  out  the  rest  of  the  things." 

"And  here's  a  new  frock  for  you,  Katey,"  old  Ann 
went  on,  after  making  John  happy  with  his  treasures, 
ua  real  bright  one,  and  a  pair  of  shoes,  and  some  real 
woollen  stockings;  oh!  how  warm  you'll  be!" 

"Oh,  how  nice,  Mammy!"  cried  Katey,  jumping 
about.  "  When  will  you  make  my  frock?  " 

"To-morrow,"  answered  the  mother,  "and  you  can 
go  to  school  again." 

"Oh,  goody!"  she  began,  but  her  face  fell.  "If 
only  Molly  Parker  could  go  too!" 

"You  wait  and  see,"  answered  Ann,  with  a  knowing 
look.  "Who  knows  what  Christmas  will  bring  to 
Molly  Parker?" 

"Now  here's  a  nice  big  roast,"  the  happy  woman  went 
on,  still  unpacking,  "and  potatoes  and  turnips  and  cab- 
oage  and  bread  and  butter  and  coffee  and " 

"What  in  the  world!  You  goin'  to  give  a  party?" 
asked  the  old  man  between  the  puffs,  staring  at  her 
in  wonder. 

"I'll  tell  you  just  what  I  am  going  to  do,"  said  Ann 
firmly,  bracing  herself  for  opposition,  "and  it's  as 
good  as  done,  so  you  needn't  say  a  word  about  it. 
I'm  going  to  have  a  Christmas  dinner,  and  I'm  going 
to  invite  every  blessed  soul  in  this  house  to  come. 
They  shall  be  warm  and  full  for  once  in  their  lives, 
please  God !  And,  Katey,"  she  went  on  breathlessly,  be* 
fore  the  old  man  had  sufficiently  recovered  from  his  as- 


156        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

tonishment  to  speak,  "go  right  upstairs  now,  and  invite 
every  one  of  'em  from  the  fathers  down  to  Mrs.  Parker's 
baby  to  come  to  dinner  at  three  o'clock;  we'll  have  to 
keep  fashionable  hours,  it's  so  late  now;  and  mind, 
Katey,  not  a  word  about  the  money.  And  hurry  back, 
child,  I  want  you  to  help  me." 

To  her  surprise,  the  opposition  from  her  husband  was 
less  than  she  expected.  The  genial  tobacco  seemed 
to  have  quieted  his  nerves,  and  even  opened  his  heart. 
Grateful  for  this,  Ann  resolved  that  his  pipe  should 
never  lack  tobacco  while  she  could  work. 

But  now  the  cares  of  dinner  absorbed  her.  The 
meat  and  vegetables  were  prepared,  the  pudding  made, 
and  the  long  table  spread,  though  she  had  to  borrow 
every  table  in  the  house,  and  every  dish  to  have  enough 
to  go  around. 

At  three  o'clock  when  the  guests  came  in,  it  was 
really  a  very  pleasant  sight.  The  bright  warm  fire, 
the  long  table,  covered  with  a  substantial,  and,  to 
them,  a  luxurious  meal,  all  smoking  hot.  John,  in  his 
neatly  brushed  suit,  in  an  armchair  at  the  foot  of  the 
table,  Ann  in  a  bustle  of  hurry  and  welcome,  and  a  plate 
and  a  seat  for  every  one. 

How  the  half-starved  creatures  enjoyed  it;  how  the 
children  stuffed  and  the  parents  looked  on  with  a 
happiness  that  was  very  near  to  tears;  how  old  John 
actually  smiled  and  urged  them  to  send  back  their 
plates  again  and  again,  and  how  Ann,  the  washer- 
woman, was  the  life  and  soul  of  it  all,  I  can't  half  tell 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        157 

After  dinner,  when  the  poor  women  lodgers  insisted 
on  clearing  up,  and  the  poor  men  sat  down  by  the 
fire  to  smoke,  for  old  John  actually  passed  around 
his  beloved  tobacco,  Ann  quietly  slipped  out  for  a  few 
minutes,  took  four  large  bundles  from  a  closet  under 
the  stairs,  and  disappeared  upstairs  She  was  scarcely 
missed  before  she  was  back  again. 

Well,  of  course  it  was  a  great  day  in  the  house  on  the 
alley,  and  the  guests  sat  long  into  the  twilight  before 
the  warm  fire,  talking  of  their  old  homes  in  the  father- 
land, the  hard  winter,  and  prospects  for  work  in  the 
spring. 

When  at  last  they  returned  to  the  chilly  discomfort  of 
then*  own  rooms,  each  family  found  a  package  contain- 
ing a  new  warm  dress  and  pair  of  shoes  for  every  woman 
and  child  in  the  family. 

"And  I  have  enough  left,"  said  Ann  the  washer- 
woman, to  herself,  when  she  was  reckoning  up  the  ex- 
penses of  the  day,  "  to  buy  my  coal  and  pay  my  rent  tifi 
spring,  so  I  can  save  my  old  bones  a  bit.  And  sure  John 
can't  grumble  at  their  staying  now,  for  it's  all  along  of 
keeping  them  that  I  had  such  a  blessed  Christmas 
aay  at  all." 


XVII 
A  CHRISTMAS  STAR* 

KATHERINE   PYLE 

COME  now,  my  dear  little  stars,"  said  Mothei 
Moon,  "and  I  will  tell  you  the  Christmas  story." 

Every  morning  for  a  week  before  Christmas,  Mother 
Moon  used  to  call  all  the  little  stars  around  her  and 
tell  them  a  story. 

It  was  always  the  same  story,  but  the  stars  never 
wearied  of  it.  It  was  the  story  of  the  Christmas  star  — • 
the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

When  Mother  Moon  had  finished  the  story  the  little 
stars  always  said:  "And  the  star  is  shining  still 
isn't  it,  Mother  Moon,  even  if  we  can't  see  it?" 

And  Mother  Moon  would  answer:  "Yes,  my  dears 
only  now  it  shines  for  men's  hearts  instead  of  their 
eyes." 

Then  the  stars  would  bid  the  Mother  Moon  good- 
night and  put  on  their  little  blue  nightcaps  and  go  to 
bed  in  the  sky  chamber;  for  the  stars'  bedtime  is  when 
people  down  on  the  earth  are  beginning  to  waken  and 
see  that  it  is  morning. 

But  that  particular  morning  when  the  little  stars 

Published  by  permission  of  the  American  Book  Co. 

158 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        159 

said  good-night  and  went  quietly  away,  one  golden 
star  still  lingered  beside  Mother  Moon. 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  little  star?"  asked  the 
Mother  Moon.  "Why  don't  you  go  with  your  little 
sisters?" 

"Oh,  Mother  Moon,"  said  the  golden  star.  "I  am 
so  sad!  I  wish  I  could  shine  for  some  one's  heart  like 
that  star  of  wonder  that  you  tell  us  about." 

"Why,  aren't  you  happy  up  here  in  the  sky  coun- 
try?" asked  Mother  Moon. 

"Yes,  I  have  been  very  happy,"  said  the  star;  "but 
to-night  it  seems  just  as  if  I  must  find  some  heart  to 
shine  for." 

"Then  if  that  is  so,"  said  Mother  Moon,  "the  time 
has  come,  my  little  star,  for  you  to  go  through  the 
Wonder  Entry." 

"The  Wonder  Entry?  What  is  that?"  asked  the 
star.  But  the  Mother  Moon  made  no  answer. 

Rising,  she  took  the  little  star  by  the  hand  and  led 
it  to  a  door  that  it  had  never  seen  before. 

The  Mother  Moon  opened  the  door,  and  there  was 
a  long  dark  entry;  at  the  far  end  was  shining  a  little 
speck  of  light. 

"What  is  this?"  asked  the  star. 

"It  is  the  Wonder  Entry;  and  it  is  through  this  that 
you  must  go  to  find  the  heart  where  you  belong," 
said  the  Mother  Moon. 

Then  the  little  star  was  afraid. 

It  longed  to  go  through  the  entry  as  it  had  nevei 


160        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

longed  for  anything  before;  and  yet  it  was  afraid  and 
clung  to  the  Mother  Moon. 

But  very  gently,  almost  sadly,  the  Mother  Moon 
drew  her  hand  away.  "  Go,  my  child,"  she  said. 

Then,  wondering  and  trembling,  the  little  star  stepped 
into  the  Wonder  Entry,  and  the  door  of  the  sky  house 
closed  behind  it. 

The  next  thing  the  star  knew  it  was  hanging  in  a 
toy  shop  with  a  whole  row  of  other  stars  blue  and  red 
and  silver.  It  itself  was  gold. 

The  shop  smelled  of  evergreen,  and  was  full  of 
Christmas  shoppers,  men  and  women  and  children; 
but  of  them  all,  the  star  looked  at  no  one  but  a  little 
boy  standing  in  front  of  the  counter;  for  as  soon  as 
the  star  saw  the  child  it  knew  that  he  was  the  one  to 
whom  it  belonged. 

The  little  boy  was  standing  beside  a  sweet-faced 
woman  in  a  long  black  veil  and  he  was  not  looking  at 
anything  in  particular. 

The  star  shook  and  trembled  on  the  string  that  held 
it,  because  it  was  afraid  lest  the  child  would  not  see  it, 
or  lest,  if  he  did,  he  would  not  know  it  as  his  star. 

The  lady  had  a  number  of  toys  on  the  counter  before 
her,  and  she  was  saying:  "Now  I  think  we  have  pres- 
ents for  every  one:  There's  the  doll  for  Lou,  and 
the  game  for  Ned,  and  the  music  box  for  May;  and 
then  the  rocking  horse  and  the  sled." 

Suddenly  the  little  boy  caught  her  by  the  ana 
"Oh,  mother,"  he  said.  He  had  seen  the  star. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        161 

"Well,  what  is  it,  darling?"  asked  the  lady. 

"Oh,  mother,  just  see  that  star  up  there!  I  wish 
—  oh,  I  do  wish  I  had  it." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  we  have  so  many  things  for  the  Christ- 
mas-tree," said  the  mcther. 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  I  do  want  the  star,"  said  the 
child. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  mother,  smiling;  "then  we 
will  take  that,  too." 

So  the  star  was  taken  down  from  the  place  where  it 
hung  and  wrapped  up  in  a  piece  of  paper,  and  all  the 
while  it  thrilled  with  joy,  for  now  it  belonged  to  the 
little  boy. 

It  was  not  ontil  the  afternoon  before  Christmas, 
when  the  tree  was  being  decorated,  that  the  golden 
star  was  unwrapped  and  taken  out  from  the  paper. 

"Here  is  something  else,"  said  the  sweet-faced  lady. 
"We  must  hang  this  on  the  tree.  Paul  took  such  a 
fancy  to  it  that  I  had  to  get  it  for  him.  He  will  never 
be  satisfied  unless  we  hang  it  on  too." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  some  one  else  who  was  helping  to 
decorate  the  tree;  "we  will  hang  it  here  on  the  very 
top." 

So  the  little  star  hung  on  the  highest  branch  of  the 
Christmas-tree. 

That  evening  all  the  candles  were  lighted  on  the 
Christmas-tree,  and  there  were  so  many  that  they 
fairly  dazzled  the  eyes;  and  the  gold  and  silver  balb, 
the  fairies  and  the  glass  fruits,  shone  and  twinkled 


162        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

in  the  light;  and  high  above  them  all  shone  the  golden 
star. 

At  seven  o'clock  a  bell  was  rung,  and  then  the 
folding  doors  of  the  room  where  the  Christmas-tree 
stood  were  thrown  open,  and  a  crowd  of  children  came 
trooping  in. 

They  laughed  and  shouted  and  pointed,  and  all 
talked  together,  and  after  a  while  there  was  music,  and 
presents  were  taken  from  the  tree  and  given  to  the 
children. 

How  different  it  all  was  from  the  great  wide,  still 
sky  house! 

But  the  star  had  never  been  so  happy  in  all  its  life; 
for  the  little  boy  was  there. 

He  stood  apart  from  the  other  children,  looking  up 
at  the  star,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  and  he 
did  not  seem  to  care  for  the  toys  and  the  games. 

At  last  it  was  all  over.  The  lights  were  put  out,  the 
children  went  home,  and  the  house  grew  still. 

Then  the  ornaments  on  the  tree  began  to  talk  among 
themselves. 

"So  that  is  all  over,"  said  a  silver  ball.  "It  was 
very  gay  this  evening  —  the  gayest  Christmas  I 
remember." 

"Yes,"  said  a  glass  bunch  of  grapes;  "the  best  of  it 
is  over.  Of  course  people  will  come  to  look  at  us  for 
several  days  yet,  but  it  won't  be  like  this  evening." 

"And  then  I  suppose  we'll  be  laid  away  for  another 
year,"  said  a  paper  fairy.  "Really  it  seems  hardly 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        16$ 

worth  while.  Such  a  few  days  out  of  the  year  and  then 
to  be  shut  up  in  the  dark  box  again.  I  almost  wish 
I  were  a  paper  doll." 

The  bunch  of  grapes  was  wrong  in  saying  that  people 
would  come  to  look  at  the  Christmas-tree  the  next 
few  days,  for  it  stood  neglected  in  the  library  and 
nobody  came  near  it.  Everybody  in  the  house  went 
about  very  quietly,  with  anxious  faces;  for  the  little 
boy  was  ill. 

At  last,  one  evening,  a  woman  came  into  the  room 
with  a  servant.  The  woman  wore  the  cap  and  apron 
of  a  nurse. 

"That  is  it,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  golden  star. 

The  servant  climbed  up  on  some  steps  and  took  down 
the  star  and  put  it  in  the  nurse's  hand,  and  she  carried 
it  out  into  the  hall  and  upstairs  to  a  room  where  the 
little  boy  lay. 

The  sweet-faced  lady  was  sitting  by  the  bed,  and 
as  the  nurse  came  in  she  held  out  her  hand  for  the  star. 

"Is  this  what  you  wanted,  my  darling?"  she  asked, 
bending  over  the  little  boy. 

The  child  nodded  and  held  out  his  hands  for  the 
star;  and  as  he  clasped  it  a  wonderful,  shining  smile 
came  over  his  face. 

The  next  morning  the  little  boy's  room  was  very 
still  and  dark. 

The  golden  piece  of  paper  that  had  been  the  star 
lay  on  a  table  beside  the  bed,  its  five  points  very  sharp 
and  bright. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

But  it  was  not  the  real  star,  any  more  than  a  person's 
body  is  the  real  person. 

The  real  star  was  living  and  shining  now  in  the  little 
boy's  heart,  and  it  had  gone  out  with  him  into  a  new 
and  more  beautiful  sky  country  than  it  had  ever  known 
before  —  the  sky  country  where  the  little  child  angels 
live,  each  one  carrying  in  its  heart  its  own  particular 
«tar. 


XVIII 
THE  QUEEREST  CHRISTMAS* 

GRACE  MARGARET  GALLAHER 

BETTY  stood  at  her  door,  gazing  drearily  down 
the  long,  empty  corridor  in  which  the  breakfast 
gong  echoed  mournfully.  All  the  usual  brisk  scenes 
of  that  hour,  groups  of  girls  in  Peter  Thomson  suits 
or  starched  shirt-waists,  or  a  pair  of  energetic  ones, 
red-cheeked  and  shining-eyed  from  a  run  in  the  snow, 
had  vanished  as  by  the  hand  of  some  evil  magician. 
Silent  and  lonely  was  the  corridor. 

"And  it's  the  day  before  Christmas!"  groaned  Betty. 
Two  chill  little  tears  hung  on  her  eyelashes. 

The  night  before,  in  the  excitement  of  getting  the 
girls  off  with  all  their  trunks  and  packages  intact, 
she  had  not  realized  the  homesickness  of  the  deserted 
school.  Now  it  seemed  to  pierce  her  very  bones. 

"Oh,  dear,  why  did  father  have  to  lose  his  money? 
'Twas  easy  enough  last  September  to  decide  I  wouldn't 
take  the  expensive  journey  home  these  holidays,  and 
for  all  of  us  to  promise  we  wouldn't  give  each  other  as 
much  as  a  Christmas  card.  But  now!"  The  two 
chill  tears  slipped  over  the  edge  of  her  eyelashes, 

•This  story  was  first  published  in  the  Youth 's  Companion,  vol.  82, 

165 


166        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"Well,  I  know  how  I'll  spend  this  whole  day;  I'll 
come  right  up  here  after  breakfast  and  cry  and  cry  and 
cry!"  Somewhat  fortified  by  this  cheering  resolve, 
Betty  went  to  breakfast. 

Whatever  the  material  joys  of  that  meal  might  be, 
it  certainly  was  not  "a  feast  of  reason  and  a  flow  of 
soul."  Betty,  whose  sense  of  humour  never  perished, 
even  in  such  a  frost,  looked  round  the  table  at  the 
eight  grim-faced  girls  doomed  to  a  Christmas  in 
school,  and  quoted  mischievously  to  herself:  "  On 
with  the  dance,  let  joy  be  unconfined." 

Breakfast  bolted,  she  lagged  back  to  her  room, 
stopping  to  stare  out  of  the  corridor  windows. 

She  saw  nothing  of  the  snowy  landscape,  however. 
Instead,  a  picture,  the  gayest  medley  of  many  colours 
and  figures,  danced  before  her  eyes:  Christmas-trees 
thumping  in  through  the  door,  mysterious  bundles 
scurried  into  dark  corners,  little  brothers  and  sisters 
flying  about  with  festoons  of  mistletoe,  scarlet  ribbon 
and  holly,  everywhere  sound  and  laughter  and  excite- 
ment. The  motto  of  Betty's  family  was:  "Never 
do  to-day  what  you  can  put  off  till  to-morrow"; 
therefore  the  preparations  of  a  fortnight  were  always 
crowded  into  a  day. 

The  year  before,  Betty  had  rushed  till  her  nerves 
were  taut  and  her  temper  snapped,  had  shaken  the 
twins,  raged  at  the  housemaid,  and  had  gone  to  bed 
at  midnight  weeping  with  weariness.  But  in  memory 
only  the  joy  of  the  day  remained. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"I  think  I  could  endure  this  jail  of  a  school,  and 
not  getting  one  single  present,  but  it  breaks  my  heart 
not  to  give  one  least  little  thing  to  any  one!  Why, 
who  ever  heard  of  such  a  Christmas !" 

"Won't  you  hunt  for  that  blue " 

"Broken  my  thread  again!" 

"Give  me  those  scissors!" 

Betty  jumped  out  of  her  day-dream.  She  had  wan* 
dered  into  "Cork"  and  the  three  O'Neills  surrounded 
her,  staring. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  —  I  heard  you  —  and  it  was  so 
like  home  the  day  before  Christmas " 

"Did  you  hear  the  heathen  rage?"  cried  Katherine. 

"Dolls  for  Aunt  Anne's  mission,"  explained  Con- 
stance. 

"You're  so  forehanded  that  all  your  presents  went 
a  week  ago,  I  suppose,"  Eleanor  swept  clear  a  chair. 
"The  clan  O'Neill  is  never  forehanded." 

"You'd  think  I  was  from  the  number  of  thumbs  I've 
grown  this  morning.  Oh,  misery!"  Eleanor  jerked  a 
snarl  of  thread  out  on  the  floor. 

Betty  had  never  cared  for  "Cork"  but  now  the  hot 
worried  faces  of  its  girls  appealed  to  her. 

"Let  me  help.     I'm  a  regular  silkworm." 

The  O'Neills  assented  with  eagerness,  and  Betty 
began  to  sew  in  a  capable,  swift  way  that  made  the 
others  stare  and  sigh  with  relief. 

The  dolls  were  many,  the  O'Neills  slow.  Betty 
worked  till  her  feet  twitched  on  the  floor;  yet  she 


i68        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

enjoyed  the  morning,  for  it  held  an  entirely  new 
sensation,  that  of  helping  some  one  else  get  ready  for 
Christmas. 

"Done!" 

"We  never  should  have  finished  if  you  hadn't 
helped!  Thank  you,  Betty  Luther,  very,  very  much! 
You're  a  duck!  Let's  run  to  luncheon  together, 
quick." 

Somehow  the  big  corridors  did  not  seem  half  so 
bleak  echoing  to  those  warm  O'Neill  voices. 

"This  morning's  just  spun  by,  but,  oh,  this  long, 
dreary  afternoon!"  sighed  Betty,  as  she  wandered 
into  the  library.  "Oh,  me,  there  goes  Alice  Johns 
with  her  arms  loaded  with  presents  to  mail,  and  I 
can't  give  a  single  soul  anything!" 

"Do  you  know  where  'Quotations  for  Occasions' 
has  gone?"  Betty  turned  to  face  pretty  Rosamond 
Howitt,  the  only  senior  left  behind. 

"  Gone  to  be  rebound.     I  heard  Miss  Dyce  say  so. " 

"Oh,  dear,  I  needed  it  so." 

"  Could  I  help  ?  I  know  a  lot  of  rhymes  and  tags  of 
proverbs  and  things  like  that." 

"  Oh,  if  you  would  help  me,  I'd  be  so  grateful !  Won't 
you  come  to  my  room?  You  see,  I  promised  a  friend 
in  town,  who  is  to  have  a  Christmas  dinner,  and  who's 
been  very  kind  to  me,  that  I'd  paint  the  place  cards 
and  write  some  quotation  appropriate  to  each  guest. 
I'm  shamefully  late  over  it,  my  own  gifts  took  such  a 
time;  but  the  painting,  at  least,  is  done." 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        169 

Rosamond  led  the  way  to  her  room,  and  there 
displayed  the  cards  which  she  had  painted. 

"You  can't  think  of  my  helplessness!  If  it  were 
a  Greek  verb  now,  or  a  lost  and  strayed  angle  —  but 
poetry!" 

Betty  trotted  back  and  forth  between  the  room  and 
the  library,  delved  into  books,  and  even  evolved  a 
verse  which  she  audaciously  tagged  "old  play,"  ID 
imitation  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

"I  think  they  are  really  and  truly  very  bright,  and 
I  know  Mrs.  Fernell  will  be  delighted."  Rosamond 
wrapped  up  the  cards  carefully.  "I  can't  begin  to 
tell  you  how  you've  helped  me.  It  was  sweet  in  you 
to  give  me  your  whole  afternoon." 

The  dinner-bell  rang  at  that  moment,  and  the  two 
went  down  together. 

"Come  for  a  little  run;  I  haven't  been  out  all  day," 
whispered  Rosamond,  slipping  her  hand  into  Betty's 
as  they  left  the  table. 

A  great  round  moon  swung  cold  and  bright  over  the 
pines  by  the  lodge. 

"Down  the  road  a  bit  —  just  a  little  way  —  to  the 
church,"  suggested  Betty. 

They  stepped  out  into  the  silent  country  road. 

"Why,  the  little  mission  is  as  gay  as  —  as  Christmas! 
I  wonder  why?" 

Betty  glanced  at  the  bright  windows  of  the  small 
plain  church.  "Oh,  some  Christmas-eve  doings,"  she 
answered. 


iyo       CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Some  one  stepped  quickly  out  from  the  church 
door. 

"Oh,  Miss  Vernon,  I  am  relieved!  I  had  begun  to 
fear  you  could  not  come." 

The  girls  saw  it  was  the  tall  old  rector,  his  white 
hair  shining  silver  bright  in  the  moonbeams. 

"We're  just  two  girls  from  the  school,  sir,"  said 
Rosamond. 

"Dear,  dear!"  His  voice  was  both  impatient  and 
distressed.  "I  hoped  you  were  my  organist.  We 
are  all  ready  for  our  Christmas-eve  service,  but  we  can 
do  nothing  without  the  music." 

"I  can  play  the  organ  a  little,"  said  Betty.  "I'd 
be  glad  to  help." 

"You  can?  My  dear  child,  how  fortunate!  But  — 
do  you  know  the  service?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  it's  my  church." 

No  vested  choir  stood  ready  to  march  triumphantly 
chanting  into  the  choir  stalls.  Only  a  few  boys  and 
girls  waited  in  the  dim  old  choir  loft,  where  Rosamond 
.seated  herself  quietly. 

Betty's  fingers  trembled  so  at  first  that  the  music 
sounded  dull  and  far  away;  but  her  courage  crept 
back  to  her  in  the  silence  of  the  church,  and  the  organ 
seemed  to  help  her  with  a  brave  power  of  its  own. 
In  the  dark  church  only  the  altar  and  a  great  gold  star 
above  it  shone  bright.  Through  an  open  window 
somewhere  behind  her  she  could  hear  the  winter  wind 
rattling  the  ivy  leaves  and  bending  the  trees.  Yet 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        171 

somehow,  she  did  not  feel  lonesome  and  forsaken  this 
Christmas  eve,  far  away  from  home,  but  safe  and  com- 
forted and  sheltered.  The  voice  of  the  old  rector 
reached  her  faintly  in  pauses;  habit  led  her  along  the 
service,  and  the  star  at  the  altar  held  her  eyes. 

Strange  new  ideas  and  emotions  flowed  in  upon  her 
brain.  Tears  stole  softly  into  her  eyes,  yet  she  felt 
in  her  heart  a  sweet  glow.  Slowly  the  Christmas 
picture  that  had  flamed  and  danced  before  her  all 
day,  painted  in  the  glory  of  holly  and  mistletoe  and 
tinsel,  faded  out,  and  another  shaped  itself,  solemn 
and  beautiful  in  the  altar  light. 

"My  dear  child,  I  thank  you  very  much!"  The  old 
rector  held  Betty's  hand  in  both  his.  "I  cannot  have 
a  Christmas  morning  service  —  our  people  have  too 
much  to  do  to  come  then  —  but  I  was  especially  anxious 
that  our  evening  service  should  have  some  message, 
some  inspiration  for  them,  and  your  music  has  made  it 
so.  You  have  given  me  great  aid.  May  your  Christ- 
mas be  a  blessed  one." 

4<I  was  glad  to  play,  sir.  Thank  you!"  answered 
Betty,  simply. 

"Let's  run!"  she  cried  to  Rosamond,  and  they  raced 
back  to  school. 

She  fell  asleep  that  night  without  one  smallest  tear. 

The  next  morning  Betty  dressed  hastily,  and  catch- 
ing up  her  mandolin,  set  out  into  the  corridor. 

Something  swung  against  her  hand  as  she  opened  the 
door.  It  was  a  great  bunch  of  holly,  glossy  green 


172        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

leaves  and  glowing  berries,  and  hidden  in  the  leaves 
a  card: 

"Betty,  Merry  Christmas,"  was  all,  but  only  one 
girl  wrote  that  dainty  hand. 

"A  winter  rose,"  whispered  Betty,  happily,  and  stuck 
the  bunch  into  the  ribbon  of  her  mandolin. 

Down  the  corridor  she  ran  until  she  faced  a  closed 
door.  Then,  twanging  her  mandolin,  she  burst  out 
with  all  her  power  into  a  gay  Christmas  carol.  High 
and  sweet  sang  her  voice  in  the  silent  corridor  all 
through  the  gay  carol.  Then,  sweeter  still,  it  changed 
into  a  Christmas  hymn.  Then  from  behind  the  closed 
doors  sounded  voices: 

"Merry  Christmas,  Betty  Luther!" 

Then  Constance  O'NeilPs  deep,  smooth  alto  flowed 
into  Betty's  soprano;  and  at  the  last  all  nine  girls 
joined  in  "Adeste  Fideles."  Christmas  morning  be- 
gan with  music  and  laughter. 

"This  is  your  place,  Betty.  You  are  lord  of  Christ- 
inas morning." 

Betty  stood,  blushing,  red  as  the  holly  in  her  hand, 
before  the  breakfast  table.  Miss  Hyle,  the  teacher 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  had  given  up  her  place. 

The  breakfast  was  a  merry  one.  After  it  somebody 
suggested  that  they  all  go  skating  on  the  pond. 

Betty  hesitated  and  glanced  at  Miss  Hyle  and  Miss 
Thrasher,  the  two  sad-looking  teachers. 

She  approached  them  and  said,  "Won't  you  come 
skating,  too?" 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        173 

Miss  Thrasher,  hardly  older  than  Betty  herself, 
and  pretty  in  a  white  frightened  way,  refused,  but  al- 
most cheerfully.  "  I  have  a  Christmas  box  to  open  and 
Christmas  letters  to  write.  Thank  you  very  much. ' ' 

Betty's  heart  sank  as  she  saw  Miss  Hyle's  face. 
"  Goodness,  she's  coming! " 

Miss  Hyle  was  the  most  unpopular  teacher  in  school. 
Neither  ill-tempered  nor  harsh,  she  was  so  cold,  remote 
and  rigid  in  face,  voice,  and  manner  that  the  warmest 
blooded  shivered  away  from  her,  the  least  sensitive 
shrank. 

"I  have  no  skates,  but  I  should  like  to  borrow  a  pair 
to  learn,  if  I  may.  I  have  never  tried,"  she  said. 

The  tragedies  of  a  beginner  on  skates  are  to  the 
observers,  especially  if  such  be  school-girls,  subjects 
for  unalloyed  mirth.  The  nine  girls  choked  and  turned 
their  backs  and  even  giggled  aloud  as  Miss  Hyle  went 
prone,  now  backward  with  a  whack,  now  forward  in  a 
limp  crumple. 

But  amusement  became  admiration.    Miss  Hyle 
stumbled,  fell,  laughed  merrily,  scrambled  up,  struck 
out,  and  skated.    Presently  she  was  swinging  up  the 
pond  in  stroke  with  Betty  and  Eleanor  O'Neill. 

"Miss  Hyle,  you're  great  1"  cried  Betty,  at  the 
end  of  the  morning.  "I've  taught  dozens  and  scores 
to  skate,  but  never  anybody  like  you.  You've  a  genius 
for  skating." 

Miss  Hyle's  blue  eyes  shot  a  sudden  flash  at  Betty 
that  made  her  whole  severe  face  light  up. 


174        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"I've  never  had  a  chance  to  learn  —  at  home  there 
never  is  any  ice  —  but  I  have  always  been  athletic." 

"Where  is  your  home,  Miss  Hyle?  "  asked  Betty. 

"  Cawnpore,  India." 

"India?"  gasped  Eleanor.  "How  delightful!  Oh, 
won't  you  tell  us  about  it,  Miss  Hyle?" 

So  it  was  that  Miss  Hyle  found  herself  talking  about 
something  besides  triangles  to  girls  who  really  wanted 
to  hear,  and  so  it  was  that  the  flash  came  often  into 
her  eyes. 

"I  have  had  a  happy  morning,  thank  you,  Betty  — 
and  all,"  She  said  it  very  simply,  yet  a  quick  throb 
of  pity  and  liking  beat  in  Betty's  heart. 

"How  stupid  we  are  about  judging  people!"  she 
thought.  Yet  Betty  had  always  prided  herself  on 
her  character-reading. 

"Hurrah,  the  mail  and  express  are  in!"  The  girls 
ran  excitedly  to  their  rooms. 

Betty  alone  went  to  hers  without  interest.  "Why, 
Hilma,  what's  happened?  " 

The  little  round-faced  Swedish  maid  mopped  the 
big  tears  with  her  duster,  and  choked  out: 

"Nothings,  ma  'am ! " 

"  Of  course  there  is !    You're  crying  like  everything. ' ' 

Hilma  wept  aloud.  "  Christmas  Day  it  is,  and  mine 
family  and  mine  friends  have  party,  now,  all  day." 

"Where?" 

Hilma  jerked  her  head  toward  the  window. 

"Oh,  you  mean  in  town?    Why  can't  you  go?" 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        175 

"I  work.  And  never  before  am  I  from  home  Christ- 
mas day." 

Betty  shivered. 

"Never  before  am  /  from  home  Christmas  day," 
she  whispered. 

She  went  close  to  the  girl,  very  tall  and  slim  and 
bright  beside  the  dumpy,  flaxen  Hilma. 

"What  work  do  you  do?" 

"The  cook,  he  cooks  the  dinner  and  the  supper;  I 
put  it  on  and  wait  it  on  the  young  ladies  and  wash  the 
dishes.  The  others  all  are  gone." 

Betty  laughed  suddenly.  "Hilma,  go  put  on  your 
best  clothes,  quick,  and  go  down  to  your  party.  I'm 
going  to  do  your  work." 

Hilma's  eyes  rounded  with  amazement.  "  The  cook, 
he  be  mad." 

"No,  he  won't.  He  won't  care  whether  it's  Hilma 
or  Betty,  if  things  get  done  all  right.  I  know  how  to 
wait  on  table  and  wash  dishes.  There's  no  house- 
keeper here  to  object.  Run  along,  Hilma;  be  back  by 
nine  o'clock  —  and  —  Merry  Christmas!" 

Hilma's  face  beamed  through  her  tears.  She  was 
speechless  with  joy,  but  she  seized  Betty's  slim  brown 
hand  and  kissed  it  loudly. 

"  What  larks ! "  "  Is  it  a  joke?  "  "  Betty,  you're  the 
handsomest  butler ! " 

Betty,  hi  a  white  shirt-waist  suit,  a  jolly  red  bow 
pinned  on  her  white  apron,  and  a  little  cap  cocked  on 
her  dark  hair,  waved  them  to  their  seats  at  the  holly- 


176        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

decked  table.  "Merry  Christmas!  Merry  Christ- 
mas!" 

"Nobody  is  ill,  Betty?"  Rosamond  asked,  anxiously. 

"If  I  had  three  guesses,  I  should  use  every  one  that 
our  maid  wanted  to  go  into  town  for  the  day,  and 
Betty  took  her  place."  It  was  Miss  Hyle's  calm  voice. 

Betty  blushed.  It  was  her  turn  now  to  flash  back 
a  glance;  and  those  two  sparks  kindled  the  fire  of 
friendship. 

It  was  a  jolly  Christmas  dinner,  with  the  "butler" 
eating  with  the  family. 

"And  now  the  dishes!"  thought  Betty.  It  must  be 
admitted  the  "washing  up"  after  a  Christmas  dinner 
of  twelve  is  not  a  subject  for  much  joy. 

"I  propose  we  all  help  Betty  wash  the  dishes!" 
cried  Rosamond  Howitt. 

Out  hi  the  kitchen  every  one  laughed  and  talked  and 
got  in  the  way,  and  had  a  good  tune;  and  if  the  milk 
pitcher  was  knocked  on  the  floor  and  the  pudding  bowl 
emptied  in  Betty's  lap  —  why,  it  was  all  "  Merry 
Christmas." 

After  that  they  all  skated  again.  When  they  came 
in,  little  Miss  Thrasher,  looking  almost  gay  in  a  rose- 
red  gown,  met  them  in  the  corridor. 

"I  thought  it  would  be  fun,"  she  said,  shyly,  "to 
have  supper  in  my  room.  I  have  a  big  box  from  home. 
I  couldn't  possible  eat  all  the  things  myself,  and  if 
you'll  bring  chafing-dishes  and  spoons,  and  those 
things,  I'll  cook  it,  and  we  can  sit  round  my  open  fire." 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        177 

Miss  Thrasher's  room  was  homelike,  with  its  fire 
of  white-birch  and  its  easy  chairs,  and  Miss  Thrasher 
herself  proved  to  be  a  pleasant  hostess. 

After  supper  Miss  Kyle  told  a  tale  of  India,  Miss 
Thrasher  gave  a  Rocky  mountain  adventure,  and  the 
girls  contributed  ghost  and  burglar  stories  till  each 
guest  was  in  a  thrill  of  delightful  horror. 

"We've  had  really  a  fine  day!" 

"I  expected  to  die  of  homesickness,  but  it's  been 
jolly!" 

"So  did  I,  but  I  have  actually  been  happy." 

Thus  the  girls  commented  as  they  started  for 
bed. 

"I  have  enjoyed  my  day,"  said  little  Miss  Thrasher, 
"very  much." 

"Yes,  indeed,  it's  been  a  merry  Christmas."  Miss 
Hyle  spoke  almost  eagerly. 

Betty  gave  a  little  jump;  she  realized  each  one  of 
them  was  holding  her  hand  and  pressing  it  a  little. 
"Thank  you,  it's  been  a  lovely  evening.  Good- 
night." 

Rosamond  had  invited  Betty  to  share  her  room- 
mate's bed,  but  both  girls  were  too  tired  and  sleepy 
for  any  confidence. 

"It's  been  the  queerest  Christmas!"  thought  Betty, 
as  she  drifted  toward  sleep.  "Why,  I  haven't  given 
one  single  soul  one  single  present ! " 

Yet  she  smiled,  drowsily  happy,  and  then  the  room 
seemed  to  fill  with  a  bright,  warm  light,  and  round  the 


178        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

bed  there  danced  a  great  Christmas  wreath,  made  up 
of  the  faces  of  the  three  O'Neills,  and  the  thin  old 
rector,  with  his  white  hair,  and  pretty  Rosamond, 
and  frightened  Miss  Thrasher  and  the  homesick  girls, 
and  lonely  Miss  Hyle,  and  tear-dimmed  Hilma. 

And  all  the  faces  smiled  and  nodded,  and  calledr 
'' Merry  Christmas,  Betty,  Merry  Christmas!" 


XIX 
OLD  FATHER  CHRISTMAS 

J.   H.   EWING 

custom  of  Christmas-trees  came  from  Ger- 
JL  many.  I  can  remember  when  they  were  first  in- 
troduced into  England,  and  what  wonderful  things  we 
thought  them.  Now,  every  village  school  has  its  tree, 
and  the  scholars  openly  discuss  whether  the  presents 
have  been  'good,'  or  'mean/  as  compared  with  other- 
trees  in  former  years.  The  first  one  that  I  ever  saw  I( 
believed  to  have  come  from  Good  Father  Christmas 
himself;  but  little  boys  have  grown  too  wise  now  to  be 
taken  in  for  their  own  amusement.  They  are  not 
excited  by  secret  and  mysterious  preparations  in  the 
back  drawing-room;  they  hardly  confess  to  the  thrill  — 
which  I  feel  to  this  day  —  when  the  folding  doors  are 
thrown  open,  and  amid  the  blaze  of  tapers,  mamma, 
like  a  Fate,  advances  with  her  scissors  to  give  every 
one  what  falls  to  his  lot. 

"Well,  young  people,  when  I  was  eight  years  old  I 
had  not  seen  a  Christmas-tree,  and  the  first  picture  of 
one  I  ever  saw  was  the  picture  of  that  held  by  Old 
Father  Christmas  hi  my  godmother's  picture-book. 
"  'What  are  those  things  on  the  tree?'  I  asked. 

170 


i8o        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

" '  Candles/  said  my  father. 

"'No,  father,  not  the  candles;  the  other  things?' 

"  'Those  are  toys,  my  son.' 

"'Are  they  ever  taken  off?' 

"  'Yes,  they  are  taken  off,  and  given  to  the  children 
who  stand  around  the  tree.' 

"Patty  and  I  grasped  each  other  by  the  hand,  and 
with  one  voice  murmured,  'How  kind  of  Old  Father 
Christmas!' 

"  By  and  by  I  asked,  'How  old  is  Father  Christmas? ' 

"My  father  laughed,  and  said,  'One  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  thirty  years,  child/  which  was  then  the 
year  of  our  Lord,  and  thus  one  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  thirty  years  since  the  first  great  Christmas  Day. 

"  'He  looks  very  old,'  whispered  Patty. 

"And  I,  who  was,  for  my  age,  what  Kitty  called 
'Bible-learned,'  said  thoughtfully,  and  with  some  puz- 
zledness  of  mind,  'Then  he's  older  than  Methuselah.' 

"But  my  father  had  left  the  room,  and  did  not  hear 
my  difficulty. 

"November  and  December  went  by,  and  still  the 
picture-book  kept  all  its  charm  for  Patty  and  me;  and 
we  pondered  on  and  loved  Old  Father  Christmas  as 
children  can  love  and  realize  a  fancy  friend.  To  those 
who  remember  the  fancies  of  their  childhood  I  need 
say  no  more. 

"Christmas  week  came,  Christmas  Eve  came.  My 
father  and  mother  were  mysteriously  and  unaccount- 
ably busy  hi  the  parlour  (we  had  only  one  parlour), 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        181 

and  Patty  and  I  were  not  allowed  to  go  in.  We  went 
into  the  kitchen,  but  even  here  was  no  place  of  rest  for 
us.  Kitty  was  'all  over  the  place/  as  she  phrased  it, 
and  cakes,  mince  pies,  and  puddings  were  with  her. 
As  she  justly  observed,  There  was  no  place  there  for 
children  and  books  to  sit  with  their  toes  in  the  fire,  when 
a  body  wanted  to  be  at  the  oven  all  along.  The  cat 
was  enough  for  her  temper/  she  added. 

"As  to  puss,  who  obstinately  refused  to  take  a  hint 
which  drove  her  out  into  the  Christmas  frost,  she 
returned  again  and  again  with  soft  steps,  and  a  stupid- 
ity that  was,  I  think,  affected,  to  the  warm  hearth, 
only  to  fly  at  intervals,  like  a  football,  before  Kitty's 
hasty  slipper. 

"We  had  more  sense,  or  less  courage.  We  bowed  to 
Kitty's  behests,  and  went  to  the  back  door. 

"Patty  and  I  were  hardy  children,  and  accustomed 
to  'run  out'  in  all  weathers,  without  much  extra  wrap- 
ping up.  We  put  Kitty's  shawl  over  our  two  heads, 
and  went  outside.  I  rather  hoped  to  see  something  of 
Dick,  for  it  was  holiday  time;  but  no  Dick  passed. 
He  was  busy  helping  his  father  to  bore  holes  hi  the 
carved  seats  of  the  church,  which  were  to  hold  sprigs 
of  holly  for  the  morrow  —  that  was  the  idea  of  church 
decoration  in  my  young  days.  You  have  improved  on 
your  elders  there,  young  people,  and  I  am  candid  enough 
to  allow  it.  Still,  the  sprigs  of  red  and  green  were  better 
than  nothing,  and,  like  your  lovely  wreaths  and  pious 
devices,  they  made  one  feel  as  if  the  old  black  wood 


182        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

were  bursting  into  life  and  leaf  again  for  very  Christ- 
mas joy;  and,  if  only  one  knelt  carefully,  they  did  not 
scratch  his  nose. 

"Well,  Dick  was  busy,  and  not  to  be  seen.  We  ran 
across  the  little  yard  and  looked  over  the  wall  at  the 
end  to  see  if  we  could  see  anything  or  anybod3xr.  From 
this  point  there  was  a  pleasant  meadow  field  sloping 
prettily  away  to  a  little  hill  about  three  quarters  of  a 
mile  distant;  which,  catching  some  fine  breezes  from 
the  moors  beyond,  was  held  to  be  a  place  of  cure  for 
whooping-cough,  or  kincough,  as  it  was  vulgarly  called. 
Up  to  the  top  of  this  Kitty  had  dragged  me,  and  carried 
Patty,  when  we  were  recovering  from  the  complaint,  as 
I  well  remember.  It  was  the  only  'change  of  air'  we 
could  afford,  and  I  dare  say  it  did  as  well  as  if  we  had 
gone  into  badly  drained  lodgings  at  the  seaside. 

"This  hill  was  now  covered  with  snow  and  stood  off 
against  the  gray  sky.  The  white  fields  looked  vast 
and  dreary  in  the  dusk.  The  only  gay  things  to  be 
seen  were  the  berries  on  the  holly  hedge,  in  the  little 
lane  —  which,  running  by  the  end  of  our  back-yard, 
led  up  to  the  Hall  —  and  the  fat  robin,  that  was  staring 
at  me.  I  was  looking  at  the  robin,  when  Patty,  who 
had  been  peering  out  of  her  corner  of  Kitty's  shawl, 
gave  a  great  jump  that  dragged  the  shawl  from  our 
heads,  and  cried: 

"'Look!' 

"  I  looked.  An  old  man  was  coming  along  the  lane. 
His  hair  and  beard  were  as  white  as  cotton-wool.  He 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        183 

had  a  face  like  the  sort  of  apple  that  keeps  well  in  win- 
ter ;  his  coat  was  old  and  brown.  There  was  snow  about 
him  in  patches,  and  he  carried  a  small  fir-tree. 

"The  same  conviction  seized  upon  us  both.  With 
one  breath,  we  exclaimed,  '//'s  Old  Father  Christ- 
mas!' 

"  I  know  now  that  it  was  only  an  old  man  of  the  place, 
with  whom  we  did  not  happen  to  be  acquainted  and 
that  he  was  taking  a  little  fir-tree  up  to  the  Hall,  to  be 
made  into  a  Christmas-tree.  He  was  a  very  good- 
humoured  old  fellow,  and  rather  deaf,  for  which  he  made 
up  by  smiling  and  nodding  his  head  a  good  deal,  and 
saying,  'aye,  aye,  to  be  sure!'  at  likely  intervals. 

"As  he  passed  us  and  met  our  earnest  gaze,  he  smiled 
and  nodded  so  earnestly  that  I  was  bold  enough  to 
cry,  ' Good-evening,  Father  Christmas!' 

"  '  Same  to  you ! '  said  he,  in  a  high-pitched  voice. 

"'Then  you  are  Father  Christmas?'  said  Patty. 

"'And  a  happy  New  Year,'  was  Father  Christmas'* 
reply,  which  rather  put  me  out.  But  he  smiled  in  such 
a  satisfactory  manner  that  Patty  went  on,  'You're 
very  old,  aren't  you? ' 

"'So  I  be,  miss,  so  I  be,'  said  Father  Christmas, 
nodding. 

"'Father  says  you're  eighteen  hundred  and  thirty 
years  old/  I  muttered. 

"'Aye,  aye,  to  be  sure/  said  Father  Christmas. 
Tm-a  long  age.' 

"A  very  long  age,  thought  I,  and  I  added,  'You're 


184        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

nearly  twice  as  old  as  Methuselah,  you  know,'  thinking 
that  this  might  have  struck  him. 

"'Aye,  aye, '  said  Father  Christmas;  but  he  did  not 
seem  to  think  anything  of  it.  After  a  pause  he  held 
up  the  tree,  and  cried,  'D  'ye  know  what  this  is,  little 
miss?' 

" '  A  Christmas-tree,'  said  Patty. 

"And  the  old  man  smiled  and  nodded. 

"I  leant  over  the  wall,  and  shouted,  'But  there  are 
no  candles.' 

"'By  and  by,'  said  Father  Christmas,  nodding  as 
before.  'When  it's  dark  they'll  all  be  lighted  up. 
That'll  be  a  fine  sight!' 

"'Toys,  too,  there'll  be,  won't  there?'  said 
Patty. 

"  Father  Christmas  nodded  his  head.  'And  sweeties/ 
he  added,  expressively. 

"I  could  feel  Patty  trembling,  and  my  own  heart 
beat  fast.  The  thought  which  agitated  us  both  was 
this:  'Was  Father  Christmas  bringing  the  tree  to  us?' 
But  very  anxiety,  and  some  modesty  also,  kept  us 
from  asking  outright. 

"Only  when  the  old  man  Shouldered  his  tree,  and 
prepared  to  move  on,  I  cried  in  despair,  'Oh,  are  you 
going?' 

"'I'm  coming  back  by  and  by,'  said  he. 

"  *  How  soon? '  cried  Patty. 

"  'About  four  o'clock,'  said  the  old  man  smiling. 
I'm  only  going  up  yonder.' 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STOPIES        183 

"And,  nodding  and  smiling  as  he  went,  he  passed 
away  down  the  lane. 

"'Up  yonder!'  This  puzzled  us.  Father  Christmas 
had  pointed,  but  so  indefinitely  that  he  might  have 
been  pointing  to  the  sky,  or  the  fields,  or  the  little  wood 
at  the  end  of  the  Squire's  grounds.  I  thought  the 
latter,  and  suggested  to  Patty  that  perhaps  he  had  some 
place  underground  like  Aladdin's  cave,  where  he  got 
the  candles,  and  all  the  pretty  things  for  the  tree.  This 
idea  pleased  us  both,  and  we  amused  ourselves  by  won- 
dering what  Old  Father  Christmas  would  choose  for  us 
from  his  stores  in  that  wonderful  hole  where  he  dressed 
his  Christmas-trees. 

"'I  wonder,  Patty,'  said  I,  'why  there's  no  picture 
of  Father  Christmas's  dog  in  the  book.'  For  at  the 
old  man's  heels  in  the  lane  there  crept  a  little  brown  and 
white  spaniel  looking  very  dirty  in  the  snow. 

"  'Perhaps  it's  a  new  dog  that  he's  got  to  take  care 
of  his  cave,'  said  Patty. 

"When  we  went  indoors  we  examined  the  picture 
afresh  by  the  dim  light  from  the  passage  window, 
but  there  was  no  dog  there. 

"  My  father  passed  us  at  this  moment,  and  patted  my 
head.  'Father,'  said  I,  'I  don't  know,  but  I  do  think 
Old  Father  Christmas  is  going  to  bring  us  a  Christmas- 
tree  to-night.' 

"'Who's  been  telling  you  that?'  said  my  father. 
Bat  he  passed  on  before  I  could  explain  that  we  had  seen 
Father  Christmas  himself,  and  had  had  his  word  for 


i86        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

it  that  he  would  return  at  four  o'clock,  and  that  the 
candles  on  his  tree  would  be  lighted  as  soon  as  it 
was  dark. 

"We  hovered  on  the  outskirts  of  the  rooms  till  four 
o'clock  came.  We  sat  on  the  stairs  and  watched  the 
big  clock,  which  I  was  just  learning  to  read;  and  Patty 
made  herself  giddy  with  constantly  looking  up  and 
counting  the  four  strokes,  toward  which  the  hour  hand 
slowly  moved.  We  put  our  noses  into  the  kitchen  now 
and  then,  to  smell  the  cakes  and  get  warm,  and  anon  we 
hung  about  the  parlour  door,  and  were  most  unjustly 
accused  of  trying  to  peep.  What  did  we  care  what  oui 
mother  was  doing  in  the  parlour?  —  we,  who  had  seen 
Old  Father  Christmas  himself,  and  were  expecting  him 
back  again  every  moment! 

11  At  last  the  church  clock  struck.  The  sounds  boomed 
heavily  through  the  frost,  and  Patty  thought  there 
were  four  of  them.  Then,  after  due  choking  and  whir- 
ring, our  own  clock  struck,  and  we  counted  the  stroke? 
quite  clearly  —  one!  two!  three!  four!  Then  we  got 
Kitty's  shawl  once  more,  and  stole  out  into  the  back- 
yard. We  ran  to  our  old  place,  and  peeped,  but  could 
see  nothing. 

" '  We'd  better  get  up  on  to  the  wall,'  I  said;  and  with 
some  difficulty  and  distress  from  rubbing  her  bare  knees 
against  the  cold  stone,  and  getting  the  snow  up  her 
sleeves,  Patty  got  on  to  the  coping  of  the  little  wall.  I 
was  just  struggling  after  her,  when  something  warm  and 
something  cold  coming  suddenly  against  the  bare  calves 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        187 

of  my  legs  made  me  shriek  with  fright.  I  came  down 
'with  a  run'  and  bruised  my  knees,  my  elbows,  and  my 
chin;  and  the  snow  that  hadn't  gone  up  Patty's  sleeves 
went  down  my  neck.  Then  I  found  that  the  cold 
thing  was  a  dog's  nose  and  the  warm  thing  was  his 
tongue;  and  Patty  cried  from  her  post  of  observation, 
4  It's  Father  Christmas's  dog  and  he's  licking  your 
legs. ' 

"  It  reallywas  the  dirty  little  brown  and  white  spaniel, 
and  he  persisted  in  licking  me,  and  jumping  on  me,  and 
making  curious  little  noises,  that  must  have  meant 
something  if  one  had  known  his  language.  I  was  rather 
harassed  at  the  moment.  My  legs  were  sore,  I  was  a 
little  afraid  of  the  dog,  and  Patty  was  very  much  afraid 
of  sitting  on  the  wall  without  me. 

"'You  won't  fall/  I  said  to  her.  'Get  down,  wiD 
you?'  I  said  to  the  dog. 

"  'Humpty  Dumpty  fell  off  a  wall/  said  Patty. 

"  'Bow!  wow!'  said  the  dog. 

"I  pulled  Patty  down,  and  the  dog  tried  to  pull  me 
down;  but  when  my  little  sister  was  on  her  feet,  to  my 
relief,  he  transferred  his  attentions  to  her.  When  he 
had  jumped  at  her,  and  licked  her  several  times,  he 
turned  around  and  ran  away. 

"  'He's  gone/  said  I;  'I'm  so  glad.' 

"But  even  as  I  spoke  he  was  back  again,  crouching 
at  Patty's  feet,  and  glaring  at  her  with  eyes  the  colour 
of  his  ears. 

"Now,  Patty  was  very  fond  of  animals,  and  when  the 


188        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

dog  looked  at  her  she  looked  at  the  dog,  and  then 
she  said  to  me,  'He  wants  us  to  go  with  him/ 

"  On  which  (as  if  he  understood  our  language,  though 
we  were  ignorant  of  his)  the  spaniel  sprang  away,  and 
went  off  as  hard  as  he  could;  and  Patty  and  I  went  after 
him,  a  dim  hope  crossing  my  mind  —  'Perhaps  Father 
Christmas  has  sent  him  for  us.' 

"The  idea  was  rather  favoured  by  the  fact  he 
led  us  up  the  lane.  Only  a  little  way;  then  he  stopped 
by  something  lying  in  the  ditch  —  and  once  more 
we  cried  in  the  same  breath,  'It's  Old  Father  Christ- 
mas!' 

"Returning  from  the  Hall,  the  old  man  had  slipped 
upon  a  bit  of  ice,  and  lay  stunned  in  the  snow. 

"Patty  began  to  cry.  'I  think  he's  dead!'  she 
sobbed. 

"  'He  is  so  very  old,  I  don't  wonder,'  I  murmured; 
'but  perhaps  he's  not.  I'll  fetch  father.' 

"  My  father  and  Kitty  were  soon  on  the  spot.  Kitty 
was  as  strong  as  a  man;  and  they  carried  Father  Christ- 
mas between  them  into  the  kitchen.  There  he  quickly 
revived. 

"  I  must  do  Kitty  the  justice  to  say  that  she  did  not 
utter  a  word  of  complaint  at  the  disturbance  of  her 
labours;  and  that  she  drew  the  old  man's  chair  close 
up  to  the  oven  with  her  own  hand.  She  was  so  much 
affected  by  the  behaviour  of  his  dog  that  she  admitted 
him  even  to  the  hearth;  on  which  puss,  being  acute 
enough  to  see  how  matters  stood,  lay  down  with  her 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        189 

back  so  close  to  the  spaniel's  that  Kitty  could  not 
expel  one  without  kicking  both. 

"For  our  parts,  we  felt  sadly  anxious  about  the  tree; 
otherwise  we  could  have  wished  for  no  better  treat 
than  to  sit  at  Kitty's  round  table  taking  tea  with  Father 
Christmas.  Our  usual  fare  of  thick  bread  and  treacle 
was  to-night  exchanged  for  a  delicious  variety  of  cakes, 
which  were  none  the  worse  to  us  for  being  'tasters  and 
wasters'  —  that  is,  little  bits  of  dough,  or  shortbread, 
put  in  to  try  the  state  of  the  oven,  and  certain  cakes 
that  had  got  broken  or  burnt  in  the  baking. 

"Well,  there  we  sat,  helping  Old  Father  Christmas 
to  tea  and  cake,  and  wondering  in  our  hearts  what  could 
have  become  of  the  tree. 

"Patty  and  I  felt  a  delicacy  in  asking  Old  Father 
Christmas  about  the  tree.  It  was  not  until  we  had  had 
tea  three  times  round,  with  tasters  and  wasters  to 
match,  that  Patty  said  very  gently:  'It's  quite  dark 
now.'  And  then  she  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"Burning  anxiety  overcame  me.  I  leaned  toward 
Father  Christmas,  and  shouted  —  I  had  found  out  that 
it  was  needful  to  shout 

" 'I  suppose  the  candles  are  on  the  tree  now?' 

"'Just  about  putting  of  'em  on,'  said  Father  Christ- 
mas. 

"'And  the  presents,  too?'  said  Patty. 

'"Aye,  aye,  to  be  sure,'  said  Father  Christmas,  and 
he  smiled  delightfully. 

"I  was  thinking  what  further  questions  I  might 


190        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

venture  upon,  when  he  pushed  his  cup  toward  Patty 
saying,  'Since  you  are  so  pressing,  miss,  I'll  take 
another  dish.' 

"And  Kitty,  swooping  on  us  from  the  oven,  cried, 
'Make  yourself  at  home,  sir;  there's  more  where  these 
came  from.  Make  a  long  arm,  Miss  Patty,  and  hand 
them  cakes.' 

"So  we  had  to  devote  ourselves  to  the  duties  of  the 
table;  and  Patty,  holding  the  lid  with  one  hand  and 
pouring  with  the  other,  supplied  Father  Christmas's 
wants  with  a  heavy  heart. 

"At  last  he  was  satisfied.  I  said  grace,  during  which 
he  stood,  and,  indeed,  he  stood  for  some  time  after- 
ward with  his  eyes  shut  —  I  fancy  under  the  impression 
that  I  was  still  speaking.  He  had  just  said  a  fervent 
'amen,'  and  reseated  himself,  when  my  father  put  his 
head  into  the  kitchen,  and  made  this  remarkable 
statement: 

" 'Old  Father  Christmas  has  sent  a  tree  to  the  young 
people.' 

"Patty  and  I  uttered  a  cry  of  delight,  and  we  forth- 
with danced  round  the  old  man,  saying,  '  How  nice  i 
Oh,  how  kind  of  you!'  which  I  think  must  have  bewil- 
dered him,  but  he  only  smiled  and  nodded. 

"'Come  along,'  said  my  father.  'Come,  children, 
Come,  Reuben.  Come,  Kitty.' 

"And  he  went  into  the  parlour,  and  we  all  followed 
him. 

"My  godmother's  picture  of  a  Christmas-tree  was 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        191 

very  pretty;  and  the  flames  of  the  candles  were  so  nat- 
urally done  in  red  and  yellow  that  I  always  wondered 
that  they  did  not  shine  at  night.  But  the  picture  was 
nothing  to  the  reality.  We  had  been  sitting  almost  in 
the  dark,  for,  as  Kitty  said,  'Firelight  was  quite  enough 
to  burn  at  meal- times.'  And  when  the  parlour  door 
was  thrown  open,  and  the  tree,  with  lighted  tapers  on 
all  the  branches,  burst  upon  our  view,  the  blaze  was 
dazzling,  and  threw  such  a  glory  round  the  little  gifts, 
and  the  bags  of  coloured  muslin,  with  acid  drops  and 
pink  rose  drops  and  comfits  inside,  as  I  shall  never 
forget.  We  all  got  something;  and  Patty  and  I,  at  any 
rate,  believed  that  the  things  came  from  the  stores  of 
Old  Father  Christmas.  We  were  not  undeceived  even 
by  his  gratefully  accepting  a  bundle  of  old  clothes 
which  had  been  hastily  put  together  to  form  his  present. 

"  We  were  all  very  happy;  even  Kitty,  I  think,  though 
she  kept  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  and  seemed  rather  to 
grudge  enjoying  herself  (a  weak  point  in  some  energetic 
characters) .  She  went  back  to  her  oven  before  the  lights 
were  out  and  the  angel  on  the  top  of  the  tree  taken 
down.  She  locked  up  her  present  (a  little  work-box)  at 
once.  She  often  showed  it  off  afterward,  but  it  was 
kept  in  the  same  bit  of  tissue  paper  till  she  died.  Our 
presents  certainly  did  not  last  so  long! 

"The  old  man  died  about  a  week  afterward,  so  we 
never  made  his  acquaintance  as  a  common  personage. 
When  he  was  buried,  his  little  dog  came  to  us.  I 
suppose  he  remembered  the  hospitality  he  had  received. 


192        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Patty  adopted  him,  and  he  was  very  faithful.  Puss 
always  looked  on  him  with  favour.  I  hoped  during  our 
rambles  together  in  the  following  summer  that  he  would 
lead  us  at  last  to  the  cave  where  Christmas-trees  are 
dressed.  But  he  never  did. 

"Our  parents  often  spoke  of  his  late  master  as  'old 
Reuben,'  but  children  are  not  easily  disabused  of  a 
favourite  fancy,  and  in  Patty's  thoughts  and  in  mine 
the  old  man  was  long  gratefully  remembered  as  Old 
Father  Christmas." 


XX 
A  CHRISTMAS  CAROL 

CHARLES   DICKENS 

MASTER  Peter,  and  the  two  ubiquitous  young 
Cratchits  went  to  fetch  the  goose,  with  which 
they  soon  returned  in  high  procession. 

Such  a  bustle  ensued  that  you  might  have  thought  a 
goose  the  rarest  of  all  birds;  a  feathered  phenomenon,  to 
which  a  black  swan  was  a  matter  of  course — and  in 
truth  it  was  something  very  like  it  in  that  house.  Mrs. 
Cratchit  made  the  gravy  (ready  beforehand  in  a  little 
saucepan)  hissing  hot;  Master  Peter  mashed  the  pota- 
toes with  incredible  vigour ;  Miss  Belinda  sweetened  up 
the  apple-sauce;  Martha  dusted  the  hot  plates;  Bob 
took  Tiny  Tim  beside  him  in  a  tiny  corner  at  the  table; 
the  two  young  Cratchits  set  chairs  for  everybody,  not 
forgetting  themselves,  and  mounting  guard  upon  their 
posts,  crammed  spoons  into  their  mouths,  lest  they 
should  shriek  for  goose  before  their  turn  came  to  be 
helped.  At  last  the  dishes  were  set  on,  and  grace  was 
said.  It  was  succeeded  by  a  breathless  pause,  as  Mrs. 
Cratchit,  looking  slowly  all  along  the  carving-knife, 
prepared  to  plunge  it  in  the  breast;  but  when  she  did, 
and  when  the  long  expected  gush  of  stuffing  issued 
forth,  one  murmur  of  delight  arose  all  round  the  board, 
and  even  Tiny  Tim,  excited  by  the  two  young  Cratch- 
is? 


i94         CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

its,  beat  on  the  table  with  the  handle  of  his  knife,  and 
feebly  cried  Hurrah! 

There  never  was  such  a  goose.  Bob  said  he  didn't 
believe  there  ever  was  such  a  goose  cooked.  Its  tender- 
ness and  flavour,  size  and  cheapness,  were  the  themes  of 
universal  admiration.  Eked  out  by  the  apple-sauce 
and  mashed  potatoes,  it  was  a  sufficient  dinner  for 
the  whole  family;  indeed,  as  Mrs.  Cratchit  said  with 
great  delight  (surveying  one  small  atom  of  a  bone  upon 
the  dish),  they  hadn't  ate  it  all  at  last!  Yet  every  one 
had  had  enough,  and  the  youngest  Cratchits  in  parti- 
cular, were  steeped  in  sage  and  onion  to  the  eyebrows! 
But  now,  the  plates  being  changed  by  Miss  Belinda, 
Mrs.  Cratchit  left  the  room  alone — too  nervous  to  bear 
witnesses — to  take  the  pudding  up  and  bring  it  in. 

Suppose  it  should  not  be  done  enough!  Suppose  it 
should  break  in  turning  out.  Suppose  somebody  should 
have  got  over  the  wall  of  the  back-yard  and  stolen  it, 
while  they  were  merry  with  the  goose — a  supposition 
at  which  the  two  young  Cratchits  became  livid!  All 
sorts  of  horrors  were  supposed. 

Hallo!  A  great  deal  of  steam!  The  pudding  was 
out  of  the  copper.  A  smell  like  a  washing-day!  That 
was  the  cloth.  A  smell  like  an  eating-house  and  a 
pastrycook's  next  door  to  each  other,  with  a  laundress's 
next  door  to  that!  That  was  the  pudding!  In  half  a 
minute  Mrs.  Cratchit  entered — flushed,  but  smiling 
proudly — with  the  pudding,  like  a  speckled  cannon-ball, 
so  hard  and  firm,  blazing  in  half  of  half-a-quartern  of 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES         195 

ignited  brandy,  and  bedight  with  Christmas  holly 
stuck  into  the  top. 

Oh,  a  wonderful  pudding!  Bob  Cratchit  said,  and 
calmly  too,  that  he  regarded  it  as  the  greatest  success 
achieved  by  Mrs.  Cratchit  since  their  marriage.  Mrs. 
Cratchit  said  that  now  the  weight  was  off  her  mind, 
she  would  confess  she  had  had  her  doubts  about  the 
quantity  of  flour.  Everybody  had  something  to  say 
about  it,  but  nobody  said  or  thought  it  was  at  all  a 
small  pudding  for  a  large  family.  It  would  have  been 
flat  heresy  to  do  so.  Any  Cratchit  would  have  blushed 
•o  hint  at  such  a  thing. 

At  last  the  dinner  was  all  done,  the  cloth  was  cleared, 
the  hearth  swept,  and  the  fire  made  up.  The  com- 
pound in  the  jug  being  tasted,  and  considered  perfect, 
apples  and  oranges  were  put  upon  the  table,  and  a 
shovel-full  of  chestnuts  on  the  fire.  Then  all  the  Crat- 
chit family  drew  round  the  hearth,  in  what  Bob 
Cratchit  called  a  circle,  meaning  half  a  one ;  and  at  Bob 
Cratchit's  elbow  stood  the  family  display  of  glasses. 
Two  tumblers,  and  a  custard-cup  without  a  handle. 

These  held  the  hot  stuff  from  the  jug,  however,  as 
well  as  golden  goblets  would  have  done;  and  Bob  served 
it  out  with  beaming  looks,  while  the  chestnuts  on  the 
fire  sputtered  and  cracked  noisily.  Then  Bob  proposed : 

a  A  Merry  Christmas  to  us  all,  my  dears.  God  bless 
us!" 

Which  all  the  family  re-echoed. 

"God  bless  us  everyone !"  said  Tiny  Tim,  the  last  of  all. 


XXI 

HOW  CHRISTMAS  CAME  TO  THE  SANTA 
MARIA  FLATS* 

ELIA  W.   PEATTIE 

THERE  were  twenty-six  flat  children,  and  none 
of  them  had  ever  been  flat  children  until  that 
year.  Previously  they  had  all  been  home  children 
and  as  such  had,  of  course,  had  beautiful  Christmases, 
in  which  their  relations  with  Santa  Claus  had  been  of 
the  most  intimate  and  personal  nature. 

Now,  owing  to  their  residence  in  the  Santa  Maria 
flats,  and  the  Lease,  all  was  changed.  The  Lease  was 
a  strange  forbiddance,  a  ukase  issued  by  a  tyrant, 
which  took  from  children  their  natural  liberties  and 
rights. 

Though,  to  be  sure  —  as  every  one  of  the  flat  children 
knew  —  they  were  in  the  greatest  kind  of  luck  to  be 
allowed  to  live  at  all,  and  especially  were  they  fortunate 
past  the  lot  of  children  to  be  permitted  to  live  in  a  flat. 
There  were  many  flats  in  the  great  city,  so  polished 
and  carved  and  burnished  and  be-lackeyed  that 
children  were  not  allowed  to  enter  within  the  portals, 
save  on  visits  of  ceremony  in  charge  of  parents  o! 

*From  "Ickery  Ann  and  Other  Girls  and  Boys,"  by  Elia  W.  Peattie 
Copyright,  1898,  by  Herbert  S.  Stone  &  Co.,  Duffield  &  Co.,  successors 

106 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

governesses.  And  in  one  flat,  where  Cecil  de  Koven 
le  Baron  was  born  —  just  by  accident  and  without 
intending  any  harm  —  he  was  evicted,  along  with  his 
parents,  by  the  time  he  reached  the  age  where  he 
seemed  likely  to  be  graduated  from  the  go-cart.  And 
yet  that  flat  had  not  nearly  so  imposing  a  name  as 
the  Santa  Maria. 

The  twenty-six  children  of  the  Santa  Maria  flats 
belonged  to  twenty  families.  All  of  these  twenty 
families  were  peculiar,  as  you  might  learn  any  day 
by  interviewing  the  families  concerning  one  another. 
But  they  bore  with  each  other's  peculiarities  quite 
cheerfully  and  spoke  in  the  hail  when  they  met.  Some- 
times this  tolerance  would  even  extend  to  conversation 
about  the  janitor,  a  thin  creature  who  did  the  work  of 
five  men.  The  ladies  complained  that  he  never  smiled. 

"I  wouldn't  so  much  mind  the  hot  water  pipes 
leaking  now  and  then,"  the  ladies  would  remark  in  the 
vestibule,  rustling  their  skirts  to  show  that  they  wore 
silk  petticoats,  "if  only  the  janitor  would  smile.  But 
he  looks  like  a  cemetery." 

"I  know  it,"  would  be  the  response.  "I  told  Mr. 
Wilberforce  last  night  that  if  he  would  only  get  a 
cheerful  janitor  I  wouldn't  mind  our  having  rubber 
instead  of  Axminster  on  the  stairs." 

"You  know  we  were  promised  Axminster  when  we 
moved  in,"  would  be  the  plaintive  response.  The 
ladies  would  stand  together  for  a  moment  wrapped  in 
gloomy  reflection,  and  then  part. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

The  kitchen  and  nurse  maids  felt  on  the  subject,  too* 

"If  Carl  Carlsen  would  only  smile/'  they  used  to 
exclaim  in  sibilant  whispers,  as  they  passed  on  the 
way  to  the  laundry.  "If  he'd  come  in  an'  joke  while 
we  wus  washin'!" 

Only  Kara  Johnson  never  said  anything  on  the  sub- 
ject because  she  knew  why  Carlsen  didn't  smile,  and 
was  sorry  for  it,  and  would  have  made  it  all  right  — 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  Lars  Larsen. 

Dear,  dear,  but  this  is  a  digression  from  the  subject  of 
the  Lease.  That  terrible  document  was  held  over  the 
heads  of  the  children  as  the  Herodian  pronunciamento 
concerning  small  boys  was  over  the  heads  of  the  Is- 
raelites. 

It  was  in  the  Lease  not  to  run  —  not  to  jump  —  not 
to  yell.  It  was  in  the  Lease  not  to  sing  in  the  halls, 
not  to  call  from  story  to  story,  not  to  slide  down  the 
banisters.  And  there  were  blocks  of  banisters  so 
smooth  and  wide  and  beautiful  that  the  attraction 
between  them  and  the  seats  of  the  little  boy's  trousere 
was  like  the  attraction  of  a  magnet  for  a  nail.  Yet 
not  a  leg,  crooked  or  straight,  fat  or  thin,  was  ever  to 
be  thrown  over  these  polished  surfaces! 

It  was  in  the  Lease,  too,  that  no  peddler  or  agent, 
or  suspicious  stranger  was  to  enter  the  Santa  Maria, 
neither  by  the  front  door  nor  the  back.  The  janitor 
stood  in  his  uniform  at  the  rear,  and  the  lackey  in  his 
uniform  at  the  front,  to  prevent  any  such  intrusion 
>ipon  the  privacy  of  the  aristocratic  Santa  Marias. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        199 

The  lackey,  who  politely  directed  people,  and  summoned 
elevators,  and  whistled  up  tubes  and  rang  bells,  thus 
conducting  the  complex  social  life  of  those  favoured 
apartments,  was  not  one  to  make  a  mistake,  and  admit 
any  person  not  calculated  to  ornament  the  front  par- 
lours of  the  flatters. 

It  was  this  that  worried  the  children. 

For  how  could  such  a  dear,  disorderly,  democratic 
rascal  as  the  children's  saint  ever  hope  to  gain  a  pass 
to  that  exclusive  entrance  and  get  up  to  the  rooms 
of  the  flat  children? 

"You  can  see  for  yourself,"  said  Ernest,  who  lived 
on  the  first  floor,  to  Roderick  who  lived  on  the  fourth, 
"that  if  Santa  Claus  can't  get  up  the  front  stairs, 
and  can't  get  up  the  back  stairs,  that  all  he  can  do  is 
to  come  down  the  chimney.  And  he  can't  come  down 
the  chimney  —  at  least,  he  can't  get  out  of  the  fire- 
place." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Roderick,  who  was  busy  with  an 
"all-day  sucker"  and  not  inclined  to  take  a  gloomy 
view  of  anything. 

"Goosey!"  cried  Ernest,  in  great  disdain.  "I'll 
show  you!"  and  he  led  Roderick,  with  his  sucker, 
right  into  the  best  parlour,  where  the  fireplace  was, 
and  showed  him  an  awful  thing. 

Of  course,  to  the  ordinary  observer,  there  was  nothing 
awful  about  the  fireplace.  Everything  in  the  way 
of  bric-a-brac  possessed  by  the  Santa  Maria  flatters 
was  artistic.  It  may  have  been  in  the  Lease  that  only 


200        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

people  with  aesthetic  tastes  were  to  be  admitted  to 
the  apartments.  However  that  may  be,  the  fireplace, 
with  its  vases  and  pictures  and  trinkets,  was  something 
quite  wonderful.  Indian  incense  burned  in  a  myste- 
rious little  dish,  pictures  of  purple  ladies  were  hung  in 
odd  corners,  calendars  in  letters  nobody  could  read, 
served  to  decorate,  if  not  to  educate,  and  glass  vases 
of  strange  colours  and  extraordinary  shapes  stood  about 
filled  with  roses.  None  of  these  things  were  awful. 
At  least  no  one  would  have  dared  say  they  were. 
But  what  was  awful  was  the  formation  of  the  grate. 

It  was  not  a  hospitable  place  with  andirons,  where 
noble  logs  of  wood  could  be  laid  for  the  burning,  nor 
did  it  have  a  generous  iron  basket  where  honest  anthra- 
cite could  glow  away  into  the  nights.  Not  a  bit  of 
it.  It  held  a  vertical  plate  of  stuff  that  looked  like 
dirty  cotton  wool,  on  which  a  tiny  blue  flame  leaped 
when  the  gas  was  turned  on  and  ignited. 

"You  can  see  for  yourself!"  said  Ernest  tragically. 

Roderick  could  see  for  himself.  There  was  an  inch- 
wide  opening  down  which  the  Friend  of  the  Children 
could  squeeze  himself,  and,  as  everybody  knows,  he 
needs  a  good  deal  of  room  now,  for  he  has  grown  portly 
with  age,  and  his  pack  every  year  becomes  bigger, 
owing  to  the  ever-increasing  number  of  girls  and  boys 
he  has  to  supply 

"Gimini!"  said  Roderick,  and  dropped  his  all-day 
sucker  on  the  old  Bokara  rug  that  Ernest's  mamma 
had  bought  the  week  before  at  a  fashionable  furnishing 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        201 

shop,  and  which  had  given  the  sore  throat  to  all  the 
family,  owing  to  some  cunning  little  germs  that  had 
come  over  with  the  rug  to  see  what  American  throats 
were  like. 

Oh,  me,  yes!  but  Roderick  could  see!  Anybody 
could  see !  And  a  boy  could  see  better  than  anybody. 

"  Let's  go  see  the  Telephone  Boy,"  said  Roderick. 
This  seemed  the  wisest  thing  to  do.  When  in  doubt, 
all  the  children  went  to  the  Telephone  Boy,  who  was 
the  most  fascinating  person,  with  knowledge  of  the 
most  wonderful  kind  and  of  a  nature  to  throw  that  of 
Mrs.  Scheherazade  quite,  quite  in  the  shade  —  which, 
considering  how  long  that  loquacious  lady  had  been 
a  Shade,  is  perhaps  not  surprising. 

The  Telephone  Boy  knew  the  answers  to  all  the 
conundrums  in  the  world,  and  a  way  out  of  nearly  all 
troubles  such  as  are  likely  to  overtake  boys  and  girls. 
But  now  he  had  no  suggestions  to  offer  and  could  speak 
no  comfortable  words. 

"He  can't  git  inter  de  frunt,  an'  he  can't  git  inter  de 
back,  an'  he  can't  come  down  no  chimney  in  dis  here 
house,  an'  I  tell  yer  dose,"  he  said,  and  shut  his  mouth 
grimly,  while  cold  apprehension  crept  around  Ernest's 
heart  and  took  the  sweetness  out  of  Roderick's 
sucker. 

Nevertheless,  hope  springs  eternal,  and  the  boys 
each  and  individually  asked  their  fathers  —  tremend- 
ously wise  and  good  men  —  if  they  thought  there  was 
any  hope  that  Santa  Claus  would  get  into  the  Santa 


202        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Maria  flats,  and  each  of  the  fathers  looked  up  from  his 
paper  and  said  he'd  be  blessed  if  he  did! 

And  the  words  sunk  deep  and  deep  and  drew  the 
tears  when  the  doors  were  closed  and  the  soft  black 
was  all  about  and  nobody  could  laugh  because  a  boy 
was  found  crying!  The  girls  cried  too  —  for  the  awful 
news  was  whistled  up  tubes  and  whistled  down  tubes, 
till  all  the  twenty-six  flat  children  knew  about  it. 
The  next  day  it  was  talked  over  in  the  brick  court, 
where  the  children  used  to  go  to  shout  and  race.  But 
on  this  day  there  was  neither  shouting  nor  racing. 
There  was,  instead,  a  shaking  of  heads,  a  surreptitious 
dropping  of  tears,  a  guessing  and  protesting  and  lament- 
ing. All  the  flat  mothers  congratulated  themselves 
on  the  fact  that  their  children  were  becoming  so  quiet 
and  orderly,  and  wondered  what  could  have  come  over 
them  when  they  noted  that  they  neglected  to  run  after 
the  patrol  wagon  as  it  whizzed  round  the  block. 

It  was  decided,  after  a  solemn  talk,  that  every  child 
should  go  to  its  own  fireplace  and  investigate.  In  the 
event  of  any  fireplace  being  found  with  an  opening 
big  enough  to  admit  Santa  Claus,  a  note  could  be  left 
directing  him  along  the  halls  to  the  other  apartments. 
A  spirit  of  universal  brotherhood  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  the  Santa  Maria  flatters.  Misery  bound  them 
together.  But  the  investigation  proved  to  be  dis- 
heartening. The  cruel  asbestos  grates  were  every- 
where. Hope  lay  strangled! 

As  time  went  on,  melancholy  settled  upon  the  flat 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        203 

children.  The  parents  noted  it,  and  wondered  if  there 
could  be  sewer  gas  in  the  apartments.  One  over-anxious 
mother  called  in  a  physician,  who  gave  the  poor  little 
child  some  medicine  which  made  it  quite  ill.  No  one 
suspected  the  truth,  though  the  children  were  often 
heard  to  say  that  it  was  evident  that  there  was  to 
be  no  Christmas  for  them!  But  then,  what  more 
natural  for  a  child  to  say,  thus  hoping  to  win  protesta- 
tions —  so  the  mothers  reasoned,  and  let  the  remark 
pass. 

The  day  before  Christmas  was  gray  and  dismal. 
There  was  no  wind  —  indeed,  there  was  a  sort  of  tight- 
ness in  the  air,  as  if  the  supply  of  freshness  had  given 
out.  People  had  headaches  —  even  the  Telephone 
Boy  was  cross  —  and  none  of  the  spirit  of  the  time  ap- 
peared to  enliven  the  flat  children.  There  appeared  to 
be  no  stir  —  no  mystery.  No  whisperings  went  on 
in  the  corners  —  or  at  least,  so  it  seemed  to  the  sad 
babies  of  the  Santa  Maria. 

"It's  as  plain  as  a  monkey  on  a  hand-organ/'*  said 
the  Telephone  Boy  to  the  attendants  at  his  salon  in 
the  basement,  "that  there  ain't  to  be  no  Christmas  for 
we  —  no,  not  for  we ! " 

Had  not  Dorothy  produced,  at  this  junction,  from 
the  folds  of  her  fluffy  silken  skirts  several  substantial 
sticks  of  gum,  there  is  no  saying  to  what  depths  of 
discouragement  the  flat  children  would  have  fallen ! 

About  six  o'clock  it  seemed  as  if  the  children  would 
smother  for  lack  of  air!  It  was  very  peculiar.  Even 


204        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

the  janitor  noticed  it.  He  spoke  about  it  to  Kara  at 
the  head  of  the  back  stairs,  and  she  held  her  hand  so  as 
to  let  him  see  the  new  silver  ring  on  her  fourth  finger, 
and  he  let  go  of  the  rope  on  the  elevator  on  which  he 
was  standing  and  dropped  to  the  bottom  of  the  shaft, 
so  that  Kara  sent  up  a  wild  hallo  of  alarm.  But  the 
janitor  emerged  as  melancholy  and  unruffled  as  ever, 
only  looking  at  his  watch  to  see  if  it  had  been  stopped 
by  the  concussion. 

The  Telephone  Boy,  who  usually  got  a  bit  of  some- 
thing hot  sent  down  to  him  from  one  of  the  tables,  owing 
to  the  fact  that  he  never  ate  any  meal  save  breakfast  at 
home,  was  quite  forgotten  on  this  day,  and  dined  off  two 
russet  apples,  and  drew  up  his  belt  to  stop  the  ache  — 
for  the  Telephone  Boy  was  growing  very  fast  indeed,  in 
spite  of  his  poverty,  and  couldn't  seem  to  stop  growing 
somehow,  although  he  said  to  himself  every  day  that 
it  was  perfectly  brutal  of  him  to  keep  on  that  way  when 
his  mother  had  so  many  mouths  to  feed. 

Well,  well,  the  tightness  of  the  air  got  worse.  Every 
one  was  cross  at  dinner  and  complained  of  feeling  tired 
afterward,  and  of  wanting  to  go  to  bed.  For  all  of 
that  it  was  not  to  get  to  sleep,  and  the  children  tossed 
and  tumbled  for  a  long  time  before  they  put  their 
little  hands  in  the  big,  soft  shadowy  clasp  of  the  Sand- 
man, and  trooped  away  after  him  to  the  happy  town 
of  sleep. 

It  seemed  to  the  flat  children  that  they  had  been 
asleep  but  a  few  moments  when  there  came  a  terrible 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        205 

burst  of  wind  that  shook  even  that  great  house  to 
its  foundations.  Actually,  as  they  sat  up  in  bed  and 
called  to  their  parents  or  their  nurses,  their  voices 
seemed  smothered  with  roar.  Could  it  be  that  the 
wind  was  a  great  wild  beast  with  a  hundred  tongues 
which  licked  at  the  roof  of  the  building?  And  how 
many  voices  must  it  have  to  bellow  as  it  did? 

Sounds  of  falling  glass,  of  breaking  shutters,  of 
crashing  chimneys  greeted  their  ears  —  not  that  they 
knew  what  all  these  sounds  meant.  They  only  knew 
that  it  seemed  as  if  the  end  of  the  world  had  come. 
Ernest,  miserable  as  he  was,  wondered  if  the  Telephone 
Boy  had  gotten  safely  home,  or  if  he  were  alone  in  the 
draughty  room  in  the  basement;  and  Roderick  hugged 
his  big  brother,  who  slept  with  him  and  said,  "Now 
I  lay  me,"  three  times  running,  as  fast  as  ever  his  tongue 
would  say  it. 

After  a  terrible  time  the  wind  settled  down  into 
a  steady  howl  like  a  hungry  wolf,  and  the  children  went 
to  sleep,  worn  out  with  fright  and  conscious  that  the 
bedclothes  could  not  keep  out  the  cold. 

Dawn  came.  The  children  awoke,  shivering.  They 
sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  about  them  —  yes,  they  did, 
the  whole  twenty-six  of  them  in  their  different  apart- 
ments and  their  different  homes. 

And  what  do  you  suppose  they  saw  —  what  do  you 
suppose  the  twenty-six  flat  children  saw  as  they  looked 
about  them? 

Why,  stockings,  stuffed  full,  and  trees  hung  full,, 


200        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

and  boxes  packed  full!  Yes,  they  did!  It  was  Christ- 
mas morning,  and  the  bells  were  ringing,  and  all  the 
little  flat  children  were  laughing,  for  Santa  Claus  had 
come!  He  had  really  come!  In  the  wind  and  wild 
weather,  while  the  tongues  of  the  wind  licked  hungrily 
at  the  roof,  while  the  wind  howled  like  a  hungry  wolf, 
he  had  crept  in  somehow  and  laughing,  no  doubt,  and 
chuckling,  without  question,  he  had  filled  the  stock- 
ings and  the  trees  and  the  boxes!  Dear  me,  dear  me, 
but  it  was  a  happy  time!  It  makes  me  out  of  breath 
to  think  what  a  happy  time  it  was,  and  how  surprised 
the  flat  children  were,  and  how  they  wondered  how  it 
could  ever  have  happened. 

But  they  found  out,  of  course!  It  happened  in  the 
simplest  way!  Every  skylight  in  the  place  was  blown 
off  and  away,  and  that  was  how  the  wind  howled  so, 
and  how  the  bedclothes  would  not  keep  the  children 
warm,  and  how  Santa  Claus  got  in.  The  wind  cork- 
screwed down  into  these  holes,  and  the  reckless  children 
with  their  drums  and  dolls,  their  guns  and  toy  dishes, 
danced  around  in  the  maelstrom  and  sang: 

"Here's  where  Santa  Claus  came! 

This  is  how  he  got  in  — 
We  should  count  it  a  sin 

Yes,  count  it  a  shame, 
If  it  hurt  when  he  fell  on  the  floor." 

Roderick's  sister,  who  was  clever  for  a  child  of  her 
age,  and  who  had  read  Monte  Cristo  ten  times,  though 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        207 

she  was  only  eleven,  wrote  this  poem,  which  every  one 
thought  very  fine. 

And  of  course  all  the  parents  thought  and  said  that 
Santa  Claus  must  have  jumped  down  the  skylights. 
By  noon  there  were  other  skylights  put  in,  and  not  a 
sign  left  of  the  way  he  made  his  entrance  —  not  that 
the  way  mattered  a  bit,  no,  not  a  bit. 

Perhaps  you  think  the  Telephone  Boy  didn't  get 
anything!  Maybe  you  imagine  that  Santa  Claus 
didn't  get  down  that  far.  But  you  are  mistaken. 
The  shaft  below  one  of  the  skylights  went  away  to  the 
bottom  of  the  building,  and  it  stands  to  reason  that 
the  old  fellow  must  have  fallen  way  through.  At  any 
rate  there  was  a  copy  of  "Tom  Sawyer,"  and  a  whole 
plum  pudding,  and  a  number  of  other  things,  more 
useful  but  not  so  interesting,  found  down  in  the  chilly 
basement  room.  There  were,  indeed. 

In  closing  it  is  only  proper  to  mention  that  Kara 
Johnson  crocheted  a  white  silk  four-in-hand  necktie  for 
Carl  Carlsen,  the  janitor  —  and  the  janitor  smiled! 


XXII 
THE  LEGEND  OF  BABOUSCKA* 

ADAPTED   PROM   THE   RUSSIAN 

IT  WAS  the  night  the  dear  Christ-Child  came  to 
Bethlehem.  In  a  country  far  away  from  Him,  an 
old,  old  woman  named  Babouscka  sat  in  her  snug  little 
house  by  her  warm  fire.  The  wind  was  drifting  the 
snow  outside  and  howling  down  the  chimney,  but  it 
only  made  Babouscka's  fire  burn  more  brightly. 

"How  glad  I  am  that  I  may  stay  indoors,"  said 
Babouscka,  holding  her  hands  out  to  the  bright  blaze. 

But  suddenly  she  heard  a  loud  rap  at  her  door.  She 
opened  it  and  her  candle  shone  on  three  old  men  stand- 
ing outside  hi  the  snow.  Their  beards  were  as  white 
as  the  snow,  and  so  long  that  they  reached  the  ground. 
Their  eyes  shone  kindly  in  the  light  of  Babouscka's 
candle,  and  their  arms  were  full  of  precious  things  — 
boxes  of  jewels,  and  sweet-smelling  oils,  and  ointments. 

"We  have  travelled  far,  Babouscka,"  they  said, 
"and  we  stop  to  tell  you  of  the  Baby  Prince  born  this 
night  in  Bethlehem.  He  comes  to  rule  the  world  and 
teach  all  men  to  be  loving  and  true.  We  carry  Him 
gifts.  Come  with  us,  Babouscka." 

*From  "The  Children'*  Hour,"  published  by  the  Milton  Bradley  Co. 

208 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        209 

But  Babouscka  looked  at  the  drifting  snow,  and  then 
inside  at  her  cozy  room  and  the  crackling  fire.  "It 
is  too  late  for  me  to  go  with  you,  good  sirs,"  she  said, 
"the  weather  is  too  cold."  She  went  inside  again  and 
shut  the  door,  and  the  old  men  journeyed  on  to  Bethle- 
hem without  her.  But  as  Babouscka  sat  by  her  fire, 
rocking,  she  began  to  think  about  the  little  Christ- 
Child,  for  she  loved  all  babies. 

"To-morrow  I  will  go  to  find  Him,"  she  said; 
"  to-morrow,  when  it  is  light,  and  I  will  carry  Him  some 
toys." 

So  when  it  was  morning  Babouscka  put  on  her  long 
cloak  and  took  her  staff,  and  filled  her  basket  with  the 
pretty  things  a  baby  would  like  —  gold  balls,  and 
wooden  toys,  and  strings  of  silver  cobwebs  —  and  she 
set  out  to  find  the  Christ-Child. 

But,  oh,  Babouscka  had  forgotten  to  ask  the  three 
old  men  the  road  to  Bethlehem,  and  they  travelled 
so  far  through  the  night  that  she  could  not  overtake 
them.  Up  and  down  the  road  she  hurried,  through 
woods  and  fields  and  towns,  saying  to  whomsoever 
she  met :  "  I  go  to  find  the  Christ-Child.  Where  does 
He  lie?  I  bring  some  pretty  toys  for  His  sake." 

But  no  one  could  tell  her  the  way  to  go,  and  they  all 
said:  "Farther  on,  Babouscka,  farther  on."  So  she 
travelled  on  and  on  and  on  for  years  and  years  — 
but  she  never  found  the  little  Christ-Child. 

They  say  that  old  Babouscka  is  travelling  still, 
looking  for  Him.  When  it  comes  Christmas  Eve,  andx 


2io        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

the  children  are  lying  fast  asleep,  Babouscka  comes 
softly  through  the  snowy  fields  and  towns,  wrapped 
in  her  long  cloak  and  carrying  her  basket  on  her 
arm.  With  her  staff  she  raps  gently  at  the  doors 
and  goes  inside  and  holds  her  candle  close  to  the  little 
children's  faces. 

"  Is  He  here?  "  she  asks.  "  Is  the  little  Christ-Child 
here?  "  And  then  she  turns  sorrowfully  away  again,  cry. 
ing:  "Farther  on,  farther  on!"  But  before  she  leaves 
she  takes  a  toy  from  her  basket  and  lays  it  beside  the 
pillow  for  a  Christmas  gift.  "For  His  sake,"  she  says 
softly,  and  then  hurries  on  through  the  years  and  for- 
ever in  search  of  the  little  Christ-Child. 


XXIII 
CHRISTMAS  IN  THE  BARN* 

F.   ARNSTEIN 

ONLY  two  more  days  and  Christmas  would  be 
here !  It  had  been  snowing  hard,  and  Johnny  was 
standing  at  the  window,  looking  at  the  soft,  white  snow 
(yhich  covered  the  ground  half  a  foot  deep.  Presently 
he  heard  the  noise  of  wheels  coming  up  the  road,  and 
a  wagon  turned  in  at  the  gate  and  came  past  the  window. 
Johnny  was  very  curious  to  know  what  the  wagon  could 
be  bringing.  He  pressed  his  little  nose  close  to  the 
cold  window  pane,  and  to  his  great  surprise,  saw  two 
large  Christmas-trees.  Johnny  wondered  why  there 
were  two  trees,  and  turned  quickly  to  run  and  tell 
mamma  all  about  it;  but  then  remembered  that  mamma 
was  not  at  home.  She  had  gone  to  the  city  to  buy 
some  Christmas  presents  and  would  not  return  until 
quite  late.  Johnny  began  to  feel  that  his  toes  and  rin- 
gers had  grown  quite  cold  from  standing  at  the  window 
so  long;  so  he  drew  his  own  little  chair  up  to  the  cheerful 
grate  fire  and  sat  there  quietly  thinking.  Pussy, 
who  had  been  curled  up  like  a  little  bundle  of  wool, 
in  the  very  warmest  corner,  jumped  up,  and,  going  to 

*From  "In  the  Child's  World,"  by  Emilie  Poulssen,  Milton  Bradley  Co., 
Publishers.     Used  by  permission. 

211 


212        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Johnny,  rubbed  her  head  against  his  knee  to  attract 
his  attention.  He  patted  her  gently  and  began  to  talk 
to  her  about  what  was  in  his  thoughts. 

He  had  been  puzzling  over  the  two  trees  which  had 
come,  and  at  last  had  made  up  his  mind  about  them.  "  I 
know  now,  Pussy,"  said  he,  "why  there  are  two  trees. 
This  morning  when  I  kissed  Papa  good-bye  at  the  gate 
he  said  he  was  going  to  buy  one  for  me,  and  mamma, 
who  was  busy  in  the  house,  did  not  hear  him  say  so; 
and  I  am  sure  she  must  have  bought  the  other.  But 
what  shall  we  do  with  two  Christmas-trees?" 

Pussy  jumped  into  his  lap  and  purred  and  purred. 
A  plan  suddenly  flashed  into  Johnny 's  mind.  "  Would 
you  like  to  have  one,  Pussy?"  Pussy  purred  more 
loudly,  and  it  seemed  almost  as  though  she  had  said 
yes. 

"Oh!  I  will,  I  will!  if  mamma  will  let  me.  I'll  have 
a  Christmas-tree  out  in  the  barn  for  you,  Pussy,  and 
for  all  the  pets;  and  then  you'll  all  be  as  happy  as  I 
shall  be  with  my  tree  in  the  parlour." 

By  this  time  it  had  grown  quite  late.  There  was  a 
ring  at  the  door-bell;  and  quick  as  a  flash  Johnny  ran, 
with  happy,  smiling  face,  to  meet  papa  and  mamma  and 
gave  them  each  a  loving  kiss.  During  the  evening  he 
told  them  all  that  he  had  done  that  day  and  also  about 
the  two  big  trees  which  the  man  had  brought.  It  was 
just  as  Johnny  had  thought.  Papa  and  mamma  had 
each  bought  one,  and  as  it  was  so  near  Christmas  they 
thought  they  would  not  send  either  of  them  back. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        213 

Johnny  was  very  glad  of  this,  and  told  them  of  the 
happy  plan  he  had  made  and  asked  if  he  might  have 
the  extra  tree.  Papa  and  mamma  smiled  a  little  as 
Johnny  explained  his  plan  but  they  said  he  might  have 
the  tree,  and  Johnny  went  to  bed  feeling  very  happy. 

That  night  his  papa  fastened  the  tree  into  a  block 
of  wood  so  that  it  would  stand  firmly  and  then  set  it 
in  the  middle  of  the  barn  floor.  The  next  day  when 
Johnny  had  finished  his  lessons  he  went  to  the  kitchen, 
and  asked  Annie,  the  cook,  if  she  would  save  the  bones 
and  potato  parings  and  all  other  leavings  from  the 
day's  meals  and  give  them  to  him  the  following  morning. 
He  also  begged  her  to  give  him  several  cupfuls  of  salt 
and  cornmeal,  which  she  did,  putting  them  in  paper 
bags  for  him.  Then  she  gave  him  the  dishes  he  asked 
for  —  a  few  chipped  ones  not  good  enough  to  be  used 
at  table  —  and  an  old  wooden  bowl.  Annie  wanted  to 
know  what  Johnny  intended  to  do  with  all  these  things, 
but  he  only  said:  "Wait  until  to-morrow,  then  you 
shall  see."  He  gathered  up  all  the  things  which  the 
cook  had  given  him  and  carried  them  to  the  barn, 
placing  them  on  a  shelf  in  one  corner,  where  he  was 
sure  no  one  would  touch  them  and  where  they  would  be 
all  ready  for  him  to  use  the  next  morning. 

Christmas  morning  came,  and,  as  soon  as  he  could, 
Johnny  hurried  out  to  the  barn,  where  stood  the  Christ- 
mas-tree which  he  was  going  to  trim  for  all  his  pets.  The 
first  thing  he  did  was  to  get  a  paper  bag  of  oats;  this 
he  tied  to  one  of  the  branches  of  the  tree,  for  Brownie 


2i4        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

the  mare.  Then  he  made  up  several  bundles  of  hay 
and  tied  these  on  the  other  side  of  the  tree,  not  quite 
so  high  up,  where  White  Face,  the  cow,  could  reach 
them;  and  on  the  lowest  branches  some  more  hay  for 
Spotty,  the  calf. 

Next  Johnny  hurried  to  the  kitchen  to  get  the 
things  Annie  had  promised  to  save  for  him.  She  had 
plenty  to  give.  With  his  arms  and  hands  full  he  went 
back  to  the  barn.  He  found  three  "lovely"  bones 
with  plenty  of  meat  on  them;  these  he  tied  together 
to  another  branch  of  the  tree,  for  Rover,  his  big  black 
dog.  Under  the  tree  he  placed  the  big  wooden  bowl, 
and  filled  it  well  with  potato  parings,  rice,  and  meat, 
left  from  yesterday's  dinner;  this  was  the  "full  and 
tempting  trough"  for  Piggywig.  Near  this  he  placed 
a  bowl  of  milk  for  Pussy,  on  one  plate  the  salt  for  the 
pet  lamb,  and  on  another  the  cornmeal  for  the  deai 
little  chickens.  On  the  top  of  the  tree  he  tied  a  basket 
of  nuts;  these  were  for  his  pet  squirrel;  and  I  had 
almost  forgotten  to  tell  you  of  the  bunch  of  carrots 
tied  very  low  down  where  soft  white  Bunny  could  reach 
them. 

When  all  was  done,  Johnny  stood  off  a  little  way  to 
look  at  this  wonderful  Christmas-tree.  Clapping  his 
hands  with  delight,  he  ran  to  call  papa  and  mamma 
and  Annie,  and  they  laughed  aloud  when  they  saw 
what  he  had  done.  It  was  the  funniest  Christmas-tree 
they  had  ever  seen.  They  were  sure  the  pets  would 
like  the  presents  Johnny  had  chosen. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        215 

Then  there  was  a  busy  time  in  the  barn.  Papa  and 
mamma  and  Annie  helped  about  bringing  in  the  animals, 
and  before  long,  Brownie,  White  Face,  Spotty,  Rover, 
Piggywig,  Pussy,  Lambkin,  the  chickens,  the  squirrel 
and  Bunny,  the  rabbit,  had  been  led  each  to  his  own 
Christmas  breakfast  on  and  under  the  tree.  What 
a  funny  sight  it  was  to  see  them  all  standing  around 
looking  happy  and  contented,  eating  and  drinking  with 
such  an  appetite! 

While  watching  them  Johnny  had  another  thought, 
and  he  ran  quickly  to  the  house,  and  brought  out  the 
new  trumpet  which  papa  had  given  him  for  Christmas. 
By  this  time  the  animals  had  all  finished  their  breakfast 
and  Johnny  gave  a  little  toot  on  his  trumpet  as  a  signal 
that  the  tree  festival  was  over.  Brownie  went,  neighing 
and  prancing,  to  her  stall,  White  Face  walked  demurely 
off  with  a  bellow,  which  Spotty,  the  calf,  running  at  her 
heels,  tried  to  imitate;  the  little  lamb  skipped  bleating 
away ;  Piggywig  walked  off  with  a  grunt;  Pussy  jumped 
on  the  fence  with  a  mew;  the  squirrel  still  sat  up  in 
the  tree  cracking  her  nuts;  Bunny  hopped  to  her  snug 
little  quarters;  while  Rover,  barking  loudly,  chased  the 
chickens  back  to  their  coon.  Such  a  hubbub  of  noises ! 
Mamma  said  it  sounded  as  if  they  were  trying  to  say 
•''Merry  Christmas  to  you,  Johnny!  Merry  Christmas 
co  all." 


XXIV 
THE  PHILANTHROPIST'S  CHRISTMAS* 

JAMES   WEBER  LINN 

DID  you  see  this  committee  yesterday,  Mr.  Math- 
ews?"  asked  the  philanthropist.  His  secretary 
looked  up. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  You  recommend  them  then?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"For  fifty  thousand?" 

"For  Lfty  thousand  —  yes,  sir." 

"  Their  corresponding  subscriptions  are  guaranteed?  " 

"I  went  over  the  list  carefully,  Mr.  Carter.  The 
money  is  promised,  and  by  responsible  people." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  philanthropist.  "You  ma> 
notify  them,  Mr.  Mathews,  that  my  fifty  thousand 
will  be  available  as  the  bills  come  in." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Old  Mr.  Carter  laid  down  the  letter  he  had  been 
reading,  and  took  up  another.  As  he  perused  it  his 
white  eyebrows  rose  in  irritation. 

"Mr.  Mathews!"  he  snapped. 

"Yes,  sir?" 

*This  story  was  first  published  in  the  Youth's  Companion,  vol.  82. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        217 

"You  are  careless,  sir!" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Carter?"  questioned  the 
secretary,  his  face  flushing. 

The  old  gentleman  tapped  impatiently  the  letter 
he  held  in  his  hand. 

"Do  you  pay  no  attention,  Mr.  Mathews,  to  my 
rule  that  no  personal  letters  containing  appeals  for 
aid  are  to  reach  me?  How  do  you  account  for  this, 
may  I  ask?  " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  secretary  again. 
"You  will  see,  Mr.  Carter,  that  that  letter  is  dated 
three  weeks  ago.  I  have  had  the  woman's  case  care- 
fully investigated.  She  is  undoubtedly  of  good  reputa- 
tion, and  undoubtedly  in  need;  and  as  she  speaks 
of  her  father  as  having  associated  with  you,  I  thought 
perhaps  you  would  care  to  see  her  letter." 

"A  thousand  worthless  fellows  associated  with  me," 
said  the  old  man,  harshly.  "In  a  great  factory,  Mr. 
Mathews,  a  boy  works  alongside  of  the  men  he  is  put 
with;  he  does  not  pick  and  choose.  I  dare  say  this 
woman  is  telling  the  truth.  What  of  it?  You  know 
that  I  regard  my  money  as  a  public  trust.  Were  my 
energy,  my  concentration,  to  be  wasted  by  innumerable 
individual  assaults,  what  would  become  of  them?  My 
fortune  would  slip  through  my  fingers  as  unprofitably 
as  sand.  You  understand,  Mr.  Mathews?  Let  me  see 
no  more  individual  letters.  You  know  that  Mr 
Whittemore  has  full  authority  to  deal  with  them.  May 
I  trouble  you  to  ring?  I  am  going  out." 


2i8        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

A  man  appeared  very  promptly  in  answer  to  the 
bell. 

"Sniffen,  my  overcoat,"  said  the  philanthropist. 

"It  is  'ere,  sir,"  answered  Sniffen,  helping  the  thin 
old  man  into  the  great  fur  folds. 

"There  is  no  word  of  the  dog,  I  suppose,  Sniff  en?  " 

"None,  sir.  The  police  was  here  again  yesterday 
sir,  but  they  said  as  W " 

"The  police!"  The  words  were  fierce  with  scorn. 
t '  Eight  thousand  incompetents ! "  He  turned  abruptly 
and  went  toward  the  door,  where  he  halted  a  moment. 

"Mr.  Mathews,  since  that  woman's  letter  did 
reach  me,  I  suppose  I  must  pay  for  my  carelessness  —  or 
yours.  Send  her  —  what  does  she  say  —  four  children? 
—  send  her  a  hundred  dollars.  But,  for  my  sake,  send 
it  anonymously.  Write  her  that  I  pay  no  attention  to 
such  claims."  He  went  out,  and  Sniff  en  closed  the 
door  behind  him. 

"  Takes  losin'  the  little  dog  'ard,  don't  he?  "  remarked 
Sniffen,  sadly,  to  the  secretary.  "I'm  afraid  there 
ain't  a  chance  of  findin'  'im  now.  'E  ain't  been  stole, 
nor  'e  ain't  been  found,  or  they'd  'ave  brung  him  back 
for  the  reward.  'E's  been  knocked  on  the  'ead,  like 
as  not.  'E  wasn't  much  of  a  dog  to  look  at,  you  see  — 
just  a  pup,  I'd  call  'im.  An'  after  'e  learned  that 
trick  of  slippin'  'is  collar  off  —  well,  I  fancy  Mr.  Carter's 
seen  the  last  of  'im.  I  do,  indeed." 

Mr.  Carter  meanwhile  was  making  his  way  slowly 
down  the  snowy  avenue,  upon  his  accustomed  walk. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES       219 

The  walk,  however,  was  dull  to-day,  for  Skiddles,  his 
little  terrier,  was  not  with  him  to  add  interest  and 
excitement.  Mr.  Carter  had  found  Skiddles  in  the 
country  a  year  and  a  half  before.  Skiddles,  then  a 
puppy,  was  at  the  time  in  a  most  undignified  and  un- 
desirable position,  stuck  in  a  drain  tile,  and  unable  either 
to  advance  or  to  retreat.  Mr.  Carter  had  shoved  him 
forward,  after  a  heroic  struggle,  whereupon  Skiddles 
had  licked  his  hand.  Something  in  the  little  dog's 
eye,  or  his  action,  had  induced  the  rich  philanthropist 
to  bargain  for  him  and  buy  him  at  a  cost  of  half  a 
dollar.  Thereafter  Skiddles  became  his  daily  com- 
panion, his  chief  distraction,  and  finally  the  apple  of 
his  eye. 

Skiddles  was  of  no  known  parentage,  hardly  of  any 
known  breed,  but  he  suited  Mr.  Carter.  What,  the 
millionaire  reflected  with  a  proud  cynicism,  were 
his  own  antecedents,  if  it  came  to  that?  But  now 
Skiddles  had  disappeared. 

As  Sniff  en  said,  he  had  learned  the  trick  of  slipping 
free  from  his  collar.  One  morning  the  great  front  doors 
had  been  left  open  for  two  minutes  while  the  hallway 
was  aired.  Skiddles  must  have  slipped  down  the 
marble  steps  unseen,  and  dodged  round  the  corner. 
At  all  events,  he  had  vanished,  and  although  the  whole 
police  force  of  the  city  had  been  roused  to  secure  his 
return,  it  was  aroused  in  vain.  And  for  three  weeks, 
therefore,  a  small,  straight,  white  bearded  man  in 
a  fur  overcoat  had  walked  in  mournful  irritation  alone. 


220        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

He  stood  upon  a  corner  uncertainly.  One  way  led 
to  the  park,  and  this  he  usually  took;  but  to-day  he  did 
not  want  to  go  to  the  park  —  it  was  too  reminiscent 
of  Skiddles.  He  looked  the  other  way.  Down  there, 
if  one  went  far  enough,  lay  "slums,"  and  Mr.  Carter 
hated  the  sight  of  slums;  they  always  made  him  miser- 
able and  discontented.  With  all  his  money  and  his 
philanthropy,  was  there  still  necessity  for  such  misery 
in  the  world?  Worse  still  came  the  intrusive  question 
at  times:  Had  all  his  money  anything  to  do  with  the 
creation  of  this  misery?  He  owned  no  tenements; 
he  paid  good  wages  in  every  factory;  he  had  given  sums 
such  as  few  men  have  given  in  the  history  of  philan- 
thropy. Still  —  there  were  the  slums.  However,  the 
worst  slums  lay  some  distance  off,  and  he  finally  turned 
his  back  on  the  park  and  walked  on. 

It  was  the  day  before  Christmas.  You  saw  it  in 
people's  faces;  you  saw  it  in  the  holly  wreaths  that 
hung  in  windows;  you  saw  it,  even  as  you  passed  the 
splendid,  forbidding  houses  on  the  avenue,  in  the  green 
that  here  and  there  banked  massive  doors;  but  most 
of  all,  you  saw  it  in  the  shops.  Up  here  the  shops  were 
smallish,  and  chiefly  of  the  provision  variety,  so  there 
was  no  bewildering  display  of  gifts;  but  there  were 
Christmas-trees  everywhere,  of  all  sizes.  It  was  aston- 
ishing how  many  people  in  that  neighbourhood  seemed 
to  favour  the  old-fashioned  idea  of  a  tree. 

Mr.  Carter  looked  at  them  with  his  irritation  soften- 
ing. If  they  made  him  feel  a  trifle  more  lonely,  they 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        221 

allowed  him  to  feel  also  a  trifle  less  responsible  —  for, 
after  all,  it  was  a  fairly  happy  world. 

At  this  moment  he  perceived  a  curious  phenomenon 
a  short  distance  before  him  —  another  Christmas-tree, 
but  one  which  moved,  apparently  of  its  own  volition, 
along  the  sidewalk.  As  Mr.  Carter  overtook  it,  he 
saw  that  it  was  borne,  or  dragged,  rather  by  a  small  boy 
who  wore  a  bright  red  flannel  cap  and  mittens  of  the 
same  peculiar  material.  As  Mr.  Carter  looked  down  at 
him,  he  looked  up  at  Mr.  Carter,  and  spoke  cheerfully: 

"  Coin'  my  way,  mister?  " 

"Why,"  said  the  philanthropist,  somewhat  taken 
back,  "I  was!" 

"Mind  draggin'  this  a  little  way?"  asked  the  boy, 
confidently,  "my  hands  is  cold." 

"Won't  you  enjoy  it  more  if  you  manage  to  take  it 
home  by  yourself?  " 

"Oh,  it  ain't  for  me!"  said  the  boy. 

"Your  employer,"  said  the  philanthropist,  severely, 
"is  certainly  careless  if  he  allows  his  trees  to  be  de- 
livered in  this  fashion." 

"I  ain't  deliverin'  it,  either,"  said  the  boy.  "This 
is  BiU's  tree." 

"Who  is  Bill?" 

"He's  a  feUer  with  a  back  that's  no  good." 

"Is  he  you  brother?" 

"No.  Take  the  tree  a  little  way,  will  you,  while  I 
warm  myself?" 

The  philanthropist  accepted  the  burden  —  he  did  not 


222        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

know  why.  The  boy,  released,  ran  forward,  jumped 
up  and  down,  slapped  his  red  flannel  mittens  on  his 
legs,  and  then  ran  back  again.  After  repeating  these 
manoeuvres  two  or  three  times,  he  returned  to  where 
the  old  gentleman  stood  holding  the  tree. 

"Thanks,"  he  said.  "Say,  mister,  you  look  like 
Santa  Claus  yourself,  standin'  by  the  tree,  with  your 
fur  cap  and  your  coat.  I  bet  you  don't  have  to  run  to 
keep  warm,  hey?"  There  was  high  admiration  in  his 
look.  Suddenly  his  eyes  sparkled  with  an  inspiration. 

"Say,  mister,"  he  cried,  "will  you  do  something  for 
me?  Come  in  to  Bill's  —  he  lives  only  a  block  from 
here  —  and  just  let  him  see  you.  He's  only  a  kid,  and 
he'll  think  he's  seen  Santa  Claus,  sure.  We  can  tell 
him  you're  so  busy  to-morrow  you  have  to  go  to  lots 
of  places  to-day.  You  won't  have  to  give  him  any- 
thing. We're  looking  out  for  all  that.  Bill  got  hurt 
in  the  summer,  and  he's  been  in  bed  ever  since.  So 
we  are  giving  him  a  Christmas  —  tree  and  all.  He 
gets  a  bunch  of  things  —  an  air  gun,  and  a  train  that 
goes  around  when  you  wind  her  up.  They're  great! " 

"You  boys  are  doing  this?" 

"Well,  it's  our  club  at  the  settlement,  and  of  course 
Miss  Gray  thought  of  it,  and  she's  givin'  Bill  the 
train.  Come  along,  mister." 

But  Mr.  Carter  declined. 

"All  right,"  said  the  boy.  "I  guess,  what  with  Pete 
and  all,  Bill  will  have  Christmas  enough." 

"Who  is  Pete?" 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        223 

"Bill's  dog.  He's  had  him  three  weeks  now  —  the 
best  little  pup  you  ever  saw ! " 

A  dog  which  Bill  had  had  three  weeks  —  and  in  a 
neighbourhood  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
avenue.  It  was  three  weeks  since  Skiddles  had  dis- 
appeared. That  this  dog  was  Skiddles  was  of  course 
most  improbable,  and  yet  the  philanthropist  was 
ready  to  grasp  at  any  clue  which  might  lead  to  the 
lost  terrier. 

"  How  did  Bill  get  this  dog?  "  he  demanded. 

' '  I  found  him  myself.  Some  kids  had  tin-canned  him, 
and  he  came  into  our  entry.  He  licked  my  hand,  and 
then  sat  up  on  his  hind  legs.  Somebody'd  taught 
him  that,  you  know.  I  thought  right  away,  'Here's 
a  dog  for  Bill!'  And  I  took  him  over  there  and  fed 
him,  and  they  kept  him  in  Bill's  room  two  or  three 
days,  so  he  shouldn't  get  scared  again  and  run  off; 
and  now  he  wouldn't  leave  Bill  for  anybody.  Of 
course,  he  ain't  much  of  a  dog,  Pete  ain't,"  he  added, 
"he's  just  a  pup,  but  he's  mighty  friendly!" 

"Boy,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  "I  guess  I'll  just  go  round 
and"  —  he  was  about  to  add,  "  have  a  look  at  that  dog, " 
but  fearful  of  raising  suspicion,  he  ended  —  "and  see 
Bill." 

The  tenements  to  which  the  boy  led  him  were  of 
brick,  and  reasonably  clean.  Nearly  every  window 
showed  some  sign  of  Christmas. 

The  tree-bearer  led  the  way  into  a  dark  hall,  up  one 
flight  —  Mr.  Carter  assisting  with  the  tree  —  and 


224        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

down  another  dark  hall,  to  a  door,  on  which  he  knocked, 
A  woman  opened  it. 

"Here's  the  tree!"  said  the  boy,  in  a  loud  whisper. 
" Is  Bill's  door  shut?" 

Mr.  Carter  stepped  forward  out  of  the  darkness. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  madam,"  he  said.  "I  met 
this  young  man  in  the  street,  and  he  asked  me  to  come 
here  and  see  a  playmate  of  his  who  is,  I  understand,  an 
invalid.  But  if  I  am  intruding " 

"Come  in,"  said  the  woman,  heartily,  throwing  the 
door  open.  "  Bill  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  sir." 

The  philanthropist  stepped  inside. 

The  room  was  decently  furnished  and  clean.  There 
was  a  sewing  machine  in  the  corner,  and  in  both  the 
windows  hung  wreaths  of  holly.  Between  the  windows 
was  a  cleared  space,  where  evidently  the  tree,  when 
decorated,  was  to  stand. 

"Are  all  the  things  here?"  eagerly  demanded  the 
tree-bearer. 

"They're  all  here,  Jimmy,"  answered  Mrs.  Bailey. 
"The  candy  just  came." 

"Say,"  cried  the  boy,  pulling  off  his  red  flannel  mit- 
tens to  blow  on  his  ringers,  "won't  it  be  great?  But 
now  Bill's  got  to  see  Santa  Claus.  I'll  just  go  in  and  tell 
him,  an'  then,  when  I  holler,  mister,  you  come  on,  and 
pretend  you're  Santa  Claus."  And  with  incredible 
celerity  the  boy  opened  the  door  at  the  opposite  end 
of  the  room  and  disappeared. 

"Madam,"  said   Mr.  Carter,  in   considerable   em- 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        225 

barrassment,  "  I  must  say  one  word.  I  am  Mr.  Carter, 
Mr.  Allan  Carter.  You  may  have  heard  my  name?  " 

She  shook  her  head.     "No,  sir." 

"I  live  not  far  from  here  on  the  avenue.  Three 
weeks  ago  I  lost  a  little  dog  that  I  valued  very  much 
I  have  had  all  the  city  searched  since  then,  in  vain. 
To-day  I  met  the  boy  who  has  just  left  us.  He  informed 
me  that  three  weeks  ago  he  found  a  dog,  which  is  at 
present  in  the  possession  of  your  son.  I  wonder  —  is 
it  not  just  possible  that  this  dog  may  be  mine?" 

Mrs.  Bailey  smiled.  "I  guess  not,  Mr.  Carter. 
The  dog  Jimmy  found  hadn't  come  off  the  avenue  — 
not  from  the  look  of  him.  You  know  there's  hundreds 
and  hundreds  of  dogs  without  homes,  sir.  But  I  will 
say  for  this  one,  he  has  a  kind  of  a  way  with  him." 

" Hark! "said Mr.  Carter. 

There  was  a  rustling  and  a  snuffing  at  the  door  at 
the  far  end  of  the  room,  a  quick  scratching  of  feet. 
Then: 

"Woof!  woof!  woof!"  sharp  and  clear  came  happy 
impatient  little  barks.  The  philanthropist's  eyes 
brightened.  "Yes,"  he  said,  " that  is  the  dog. " 

"I  doubt  if  it  can  be,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Bailey,  depre- 
catingly. 

"Open  the  door,  please,"  commanded  the  philan- 
thropist, "and  let  us  see."  Mrs.  Bailey  complied. 
There  was  a  quick  jump,  a  tumbling  rush,  and  Skiddles, 
the  lost  Skiddles,  was  in  the  philanthropist's  arms. 
Mrs.  Bailey  shut  the  door  with  a  troubled  face. 


226        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"I  see  it's  your  dog,  sir,"  she  said,  "but  I  hope  you 
won't  be  thinking  that  Jimmy  or  I " 

"Madam,"  interrupted  Mr.  Carter,  "I  could  not  be 
so  foolish.  On  the  contrary,  I  owe  you  a  thousand 
thanks." 

Mrs.  Bailey  looked  more  cheerful.  "Poor  little 
Billy!"  she  said.  "It'll  come  hard  on  him,  losing 
Pete  just  at  Christmas  tune.  But  the  boys  are  so 
good  to  him,  I  dare  say  he'll  forget  it." 

"Who  are  these  boys?"  inquired  the  philanthropist. 
"Isn't  their  action  —  somewhat  unusual  ?" 

"It's  Miss  Gray's  club  at  the  settlement,  sir,"  ex- 
plained Mrs.  Bailey.  "Every  Christmas  they  do  this 
for  somebody.  It's  not  charity;  Billy  and  I  don't 
need  charity,  or  take  it.  It's  just  friendliness.  They're 
good  boys." 

"I  see,"  said  the  philanthropist.  He  was  still 
wondering  about  it,  though,  when  the  door  opened 
again,  and  Jimmy  thrust  out  a  face  shining  with 
anticipation. 

"All  ready,  mister!"  he  said.  "Bill's  waitin'  for 
you!" 

"Jimmy,"  began  Mrs.  Bailey,  about  to  explain,  "the 
gentleman " 

But  the  philanthropist  held  up  his  hand,  interrupting 
her.  "You'll  let  me  see  your  son,  Mrs.  Bailey?"  he 
asked,  gently. 

"Why,  certainly,  sir." 

Mr.  Carter  put  Skiddles  down  and  walked  slowly 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        227 

fato  the  inner  room.  The  bed  stood  with  its  side  toward 
him.  On  it  lay  a  small  boy  of  seven,  rigid  of  body,  but 
with  his  arms  free  and  his  face  lighted  with  joy. 

"Hello,  Santa  Claus!"  he  piped,  in  a  voice  shrill 
with  excitement. 

"Hello,  Bill!"  answered  the  philanthropist,  sedately. 

The  boy  turned  his  eyes  on  Jimmy. 

"He  knows  my  name,"  he  said,  with  glee. 

"  He  knows  everybody's  name,"  said  Jimmy.  "  Now 
you  tell  him  what  you  want,  Bill,  and  he'll  bring  it 
to-morrow. 

"How  would  you  like,"  said  the  philanthropist, 

reflectively,  "an  —  an "  he  hesitated,  it  seemed  so 

incongruous  with  that  stiff  figure  on  the  bed  —  "an  air- 
gun?" 

"  I  guess  yes,"  said  Bill,  happily. 

"And  a  train  of  cars,"  broke  in  the  impatient  Jimmy, 
"that  goes  like  sixty  when  you  wind  her?" 

"Hi!  "said  Bill. 

The  philanthropist  solemnly  made  notes  of  this. 

"How  about,"  he  remarked,  inquiringly,  "a  tree?" 

"Honest?  "said  Bill. 

"I  think  it  can  be  managed,"  said  Santa  Claus. 
He  advanced  to  the  bedside. 

"I'm  glad  to  have  seen  you,  Bill.  You  know  how 
busy  I  am,  but  I  hope  —  I  hope  to  see  you  again." 

"Not  till  next  year,  of  course,  "  warned  Jimmy. 

"Not  till  then,  of  course,"  assented  Santa  Claus. 
"And  now,  good-bye." 


228        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"You  forgot  to  ask  him  if  he'd  been  a  good  boy," 
suggested  Jimmy. 

"I  have,"  said  Bill.  "I've  been  fine.  You  ask 
mother." 

"  Shegivesyou— she  gives  you  both  a  high  character, '' 
said  Santa  Claus.  "Good-bye  again,"  and  so  saying 
he  withdrew.  Skiddles  followed  him  out.  The  phil- 
anthropist closed  the  door  of  the  bedroom,  and  then 
turned  to  Mrs.  Bailey. 

She  was  regarding  him  with  awestruck  eyes. 

"  Oh,  sir, "  she  said,  "  I  know  now  who  you  are  —  the 
Mr.  Carter  that  gives  so  much  away  to  people!" 

The  philanthropist  nodded,  deprecatingly. 

"Just  so,  Mrs.  Bailey,"  he  said.  "And  there  is  one 
gift  —  or  loan  rather  —  which  I  should  like  to  make 
to  you.  I  should  like  to  leave  the  little  dog  with  you  till 
after  the  holidays.  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  claim  him 
then;  but  if  you'll  keep  him  till  after  Christmas  —  and 
let  me  find,  perhaps,  another  dog  for  Billy  —  I  shall 
be  much  obliged." 

Again  the  door  of  the  bedroom  opened,  and  Jimmy 
emerged  quietly. 

"Bill  wants  the  pup,"  he  explained. 

"Pete!  Pete!"  came  the  piping  but  happy  voice 
from  the  inner  room. 

Skiddles  hesitated.     Mr.  Carter  made  no  sign. 

"Pete!    Pete!"  shrilled  the  voice  again. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  Skiddles  turned  and  went  back 
into  the  bedroom. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        229 

"You  see,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  smiling,  "he  won't  be 
too  unhappy  away  from  me,  Mrs.  Bailey." 

On  his  way  home  the  philanthropist  saw  even  more 
evidences  of  Christmas  gaiety  along  the  streets  than 
before.  He  stepped  out  briskly,  in  spite  of  his  sixty- 
eight  years;  he  even  hummed  a  little  tune. 

When  he  reached  the  house  on  the  avenue  he  found 
his  secretary  still  at  work . 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  Mr.  Mathews,"  he  said,  "did  you 
send  that  letter  to  the  woman,  saying  I  never  paid 
attention  to  personal  appeals?  No?  Then  write  her, 
please,  enclosing  my  check  for  two  hundred  dollars,  and 
wish  her  a  very  Merry  Christmas  in  my  name,  will  you? 
And  hereafter  will  you  always  let  me  see  such  letters  as 
that  one  —  of  course  after  careful  investigation?  I 
fancy  perhaps  I  may  have  been  too  rigid  in  the  past." 

"Certainly,  sir,"  answered  the  bewildered  secretary. 
He  began  fumbling  excitedly  for  his  note-book. 

"  I  found  the  little  dog,"  continued  the  philanthropist. 
"You  will  be  glad  to  know  that." 

' '  You  have  found  him? ' '  cried  the  secretary.  ' '  Have 
you  got  him  back,  Mr.  Carter?  Where  was  he?" 

"He  was — detained — on  Oak  Street,  I  believe,"  said 
the  philanthropist.  "  No,  I  have  not  got  him  back  yet. 
I  have  left  him  with  a  young  boy  till  after  the  holidays." 

He  settled  himself  to  his  papers,  for  philanthropists 
must  toil  even  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  December,  but 
the  secretary  shook  his  head  in  a  daze.  "I  wonder 
that's  happened?  "  he  said  to  himself. 


XXV 

THE  FIRST  CHRISTMAS-TREE 

BY  LUCY  WHEELOCK 

TWO  little  children  were  sitting  by  the  fire  OIK 
cold  winter's  night.  All  at  once  they  heard  a 
timid  knock  at  the  door  and  one  ran  to  open  it. 

There,  outside  in  the  cold  and  darkness,  stood  a 
child  with  no  shoes  upon  his  feet  and  clad  in  thin,  rag- 
ged garments.  He  was  shivering  with  cold,  and  he 
asked  to  come  in  and  warm  himself. 

"Yes,  come  in,"  cried  both  the  children.  fe You  shall 
have  our  place  by  the  fire.  Come  in." 

They  drew  trn  little  stranger  to  their  warm  seat 
and  shared  their  supper  with  him,  and  gave  him  their 
bed,  while  they  slept  on  a  hard  bench. 

In  the  night  they  were  awakened  by  strains  of  sweet 
music,  and  looking  out,  they  saw  a  band  of  children 
in  shining  garments,  approaching  the  house.  They 
were  playing  on  golden  harps  and  the  air  was  full 
of  melody. 

Suddenly  the  Strange  Child  stood  before  them:  no 
longer  cold  and  ragged,  but  clad  in  silvery  light. 

His  soft  voice  said:  "I  was  cold  and  you  took  Me 
in.  I  was  hungry  and  you  fed  Me.  I  was  tired  and 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        231 

you  gave  Me  your  bed.  I  am  the  Christ-Child,  wan- 
dering through  the  world  to  bring  peace  and  happiness 
to  all  good  children.  As  you  have  given  to  Me,  so 
may  this  tree  every  year  give  rich  fruit  to  you." 

So  saying,  He  broke  a  branch  from  the  fir-tree  that 
grew  near  the  door,  and  He  planted  it  in  the  ground 
and  disappeared.  And  the  branch  grew  into  a  great 
tree,  and  every  year  it  bore  wonderful  fruit  for  the  kind 
children. 


XXVI 
THE  FIRST  NEW  ENGLAND  CHRISTMAS* 

G.   L.    STONE   AND  M.    G.    FICKETT 

IT  WAS  a  warm  and  pleasant  Saturday  —  that 
twenty-third  of  December,  1620.  The  winter 
wind  had  blown  itself  away  in  the  storm  of  the  day 
before,  and  the  air  was  clear  and  balmy. 

The  people  on  board  the  Mayflower  were  glad  of 
the  pleasant  day.  It  was  three  long  months  since 
they  had  started  from  Plymouth,  in  England,  to  seek 
a  home  across  the  ocean.  Now  they  had  come  into  a 
harbour  that  they  named  New  Plymouth,  in  the  country 
of  New  England. 

Other  people  called  these  voyagers  Pilgrims,  which 
means  wanderers.  A  long  while  before,  the  Pilgrims 
had  lived  in  England;  later  they  made  their  home 
with  the  Dutch  in  Holland;  finally  they  had  said  good- 
bye to  their  friends  in  Holland  and  in  England,  and 
had  sailed  away  to  America. 

There  were  only  one  hundred  and  two  of  the  Pilgrims 
on  the  Mayflmver,  but  they  were  brave  and  strong  and 
full  of  hope.  Now  the  Mayflower  was  the  only  home 

*From  Stone  and  Fickett's  "Every  Day  Life  in  the  Colonies; "  copyrighted 
^905,  by  D.  C.  Heath  &  Co.    Used  by  permission. 

it? 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        233 

they  had;  yet  if  this  weather  lasted  they  might  soon 
have  warm  log-cabins  to  live  in.  This  very  after- 
noon the  men  had  gone  ashore  to  cut  down  the  large 
trees. 

The  women  of  the  Mayflower  were  busy,  too.  Some 
were  spinning,  some  knitting,  some  sewing.  It  was 
so  bright  and  pleasant  that  Mistress  Rose  Standish 
had  taken  out  her  knitting  and  had  gone  to  sit  a  little 
vvhile  on  deck.  She  was  too  weak  to  face  rough  weather, 
and  she  wanted  to  enjoy  the  warm  sunshine  and  the 
clear  salt  air.  By  her  side  was  Mistress  Brewster,  the 
minister's  wife.  Everybody  loved  Mistress  Standish 
&nd  Mistress  Brewster,  for  neither  of  them  ever  spoke 
unkindly. 

The  air  on  deck  would  have  been  warm  even  on  a 
colder  day,  for  in  one  corner  a  bright  fire  was  burning. 
It  would  seem  strange  now,  would  it  not,  to  see  a  fire 
on  the  deck  of  a  vessel?  But  in  those  days,  when 
the  weather  was  pleasant,  people  on  shipboard  did 
their  cooking  on  deck. 

The  Pilgrims  had  no  stoves,  and  Mistress  Carver's 
maid  had  built  this  fire  on  a  large  hearth  covered  with 
sand.  She  had  hung  a  great  kettle  on  the  crane  over 
the  fire,  where  the  onion  soup  for  supper  was  now 
simmering  slowly. 

Near  the  fire  sat  a  little  girl,  busily  playing  and  singing 
to  herself.  Little  Remember  Allerton  was  only  six 
years  old,  but  she  liked  to  be  with  Hannah,  Mistress 
Carver's  maid.  This  afternoon  Remember  had  been 


134        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

watching  Hannah  build  the  fire  and  make  the  soup, 
Now  the  little  girl  was  playing  with  the  Indian  arrow- 
heads her  father  had  brought  her  the  night  before. 
She  was  singing  the  words  of  the  old  psalm: 

"Shout  to  Jehovah,  all  the  earth, 

Serve  ye  Jehovah  with  gladness;  before 

him  bow  with  singing  mirth. " 

"Ah,  child,  methinks  the  children  of  Old  England 
are  singing  different  words  from  those  to-day,"  spoke 
Hannah  at  length,  with  a  faraway  look  in  her  eyes. 

"Why,  Hannah?  What  songs  are  the  little  English 
children  singing  now?"  questioned  Remember  in 
surprise. 

"It  lacks  but  two  days  of  Christmas,  child,  and  in 
my  old  home  everybody  is  singing  Merry  Christmas 
songs. ' ' 

"But  thou  hast  not  told  me  what  is  Christmas!5 
persisted  the  child. 

"Ah,  me!  Thou  dost  not  know,  'tis  true.  Christ- 
mas, Remember,  is  the  birthday  of  the  Christ-Child, 
of  Jesus,  whom  thou  hast  learned  to  love,"  Hannah 
answered  softly. 

"But  what  makes  the  English  children  so  happy 
then?  And  we  are  English,  thou  hast  told  me,  Hannah. 
Why  don't  we  keep  Christmas,  too?  " 

"In  sooth  we  are  English,  child.  But  the  reason 
why  we  do  not  sing  the  Christmas  carols  or  play  the 
Christmas  games  makes  a  long,  long  story,  Remember. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        235 

Hannah  cannot  tell  it  so  that  little  children  will  under- 
stand. Thou  must  ask  some  other,  child." 

Hannah  and  the  little  girl  were  just  then  near  the 
two  women  on  the  deck,  and  Remember  said: 

"Mistress  Brewster,  Hannah  sayeth  she  knoweth 
not  how  to  tell  why  Love  and  Wrestling  and  Constance 
and  the  others  do  not  sing  the  Christmas  songs  or 
play  the  Christmas  games.  But  thou  wilt  tell  me 
wilt  thou  not?  "  she  added  coaxingly. 

A  sad  look  came  into  Mistress  Brewster's  eyes,  and 
Mistress  Standish  looked  grave,  too.  No  one  spoke 
for  a  few  seconds,  until  Hannah  said  almost  sharply: 
"Why  could  we  not  burn  a  Yule  log  Monday,  and 
make  some  meal  into  little  cakes  for  the  children?" 

"Nay,  Hannah,"  answered  the  gentle  voice  of 
Mistress  Brewster.  "Such  are  but  vain  shows  and 
not  for  those  of  us  who  believe  hi  holier  things.  But," 
she  added,  with  a  kind  glance  at  little  Remember, 
"wouldst  thou  like  to  know  why  we  have  left  Old 
England  and  do  not  keep  the  Christmas  Day?  Thou 
canst  not  understand  it  all,  child,  and  yet  it  may  do  thee 
no  harm  to  hear  the  story.  It  may  help  thee  to  be 
a  brave  and  happy  little  girl  in  the  midst  of  our  hard 
life." 

"Surely  it  can  do  no  harm,  Mistress  Brewster," 
spoke  Rose  Standish,  gently.  "Remember  is  a  little 
Pilgrim  now,  and  she  ought,  methinks,  to  know  some- 
thing of  the  reason  for  our  wandering.  Come  here, 
child,  and  sit  by  me,  while  good  Mistress  Brewstei 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

tells  thee  how  cruel  men  have  made  us  suffer.  Then  will 
I  sing  thee  one  of  the  Christmas  carols. " 

With  these  words  she  held  out  her  hands  to  little 
Remember,  who  ran  quickly  to  the  side  of  Mistress 
Standish,  and  eagerly  waited  for  the  story  to  begin. 

"We  have  not  always  lived  hi  Holland,  Remember. 
Most  of  us  were  born  hi  England,  and  England  is  the 
best  country  hi  the  world.  'Tis  a  land  to  be  proud  of, 
Remember,  though  some  of  its  rulers  have  been  wicked 
and  cruel. 

"Long  before  you  were  born,  when  your  mother  was 
a  little  girl,  the  English  king  said  that  everybody  in 
the  land  ought  to  think  as  he  thought,  and  go  to  a 
church  like  his.  He  said  he  would  send  us  away  from 
England  if  we  did  not  do  as  he  ordered.  Now,  we 
could  not  think  as  he  did  on  holy  matters,  and  it  seem  jd 
wrong  to  us  to  obey  him.  So  we  decided  to  go  to  a 
country  where  we  might  worship  as  we  pleased." 

"What  became  of  that  cruel  king,  Mistress  Brew- 
ster?" 

"He  ruleth  England  now.  But  thou  must  not  think 
too  hardly  of  him.  He  doth  not  understand,  perhaps. 
Right  will  win  some  day,  Remember,  though  there  may 
be  bloody  war  before  peace  cometh.  And  I  thank  God 
that  we,  at  least,  shall  not  be  called  on  to  live  in  the 
midst  of  the  strife,"  she  went  on,  speaking  more  to 
herself  than  to  the  little  girl. 

"We  decided  to  go  to  Holland,  out  of  the  reach  of 
the  king.  We  were  not  sure  whether  it  wt.*  best  to 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        237 

move  or  not,  but  our  hearts  were  set  on  God's  ways. 
We  trusted  Him  in  whom  we  believed.  Yes,"  she 
went  on,  "and  shall  we  not  keep  on  trusting  Him?  " 

And  Rose  Standish,  remembering  the  little  stock  of 
food  that  was  nearly  gone,  the  disease  that  had  come 
upon  many  of  their  number,  and  the  five  who  had  died 
that  month,  answered  firmly :  "Yes.  He  who  has  led 
us  thus  far  will  not  leave  us  now." 

They  were  all  silent  a  few  seconds.  Presently 
Remember  said:  "Then  did  ye  go  to  Holland,  Mistress 
Brewster?" 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "Our  people  all  went  over  to 
Holland,  where  the  Dutch  folk  live  and  the  little  Dutch 
children  clatter  about  with  their  wooden  shoes.  There 
thou  wast  born,  Remember,  and  my  own  children, 
and  there  we  lived  in  love  and  peace." 

"And  yet,  we  were  not  wholly  happy.  We  could  not 
talk  well  with  the  Dutch,  and  so  we  could  not  set  right 
what  was  wrong  among  them.  'Twas  so  hard  to  earn 
money  that  many  had  to  go  back  to  England.  And 
worst  of  all,  Remember,  we  were  afraid  that  you  and 
little  Bartholomew  and  Mary  and  Love  and  Wrestling 
and  all  the  rest  would  not  grow  to  be  good  girls  and 
boys.  And  so  we  have  come  to  this  new  country 
to  teach  our  children  to  be  pure  and  noble." 

After  another  silence  Remember  spoke  again:  "I 
thank  thee,  Mistress  Brewster.  And  I  will  try  to  be  a 
good  girl.  But  thou  didst  not  tell  me  about  Christmas 
after  all." 


238        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"  Nay,  child,  but  now  I  will.  There  are  long  services 
on  that  day  in  every  church  where  the  king's  friends 
go.  But  there  are  parts  of  these  services  which  we  can- 
not approve;  and  so  we  think  it  best  not  to  follow  the 
other  customs  that  the  king's  friends  observe  on  Christ- 
mas. 

"They  trim  their  houses  with  mistletoe  and  holly 
so  that  everything  looks  gay  and  cheerful.  Their 
other  name  for  the  Christmas  time  is  the  Yuletide, 
and  the  big  log  that  is  burned  then  is  called  the  Yule 
log.  The  children  like  to  sit  around  the  hearth  in 
front  of  the  great,  blazing  Yule  log,  and  listen  to  stories 
of  long,  long  ago. 

"At  Christmas  there  are  great  feasts  in  England, 
too.  No  one  is  allowed  to  go  hungry,  for  the  rich 
people  on  the  day  always  send  meat  and  cakes  to 
the  poor  folk  round  about. 

"But  we  like  to  make  all  our  days  Christmas  days, 
Remember.  We  try  never  to  forget  God's  gifts  to  us, 
and  they  remind  us  always  to  be  good  to  other  people." 

"And  the  Christmas  carols,  Mistress  Standish? 
What  are  they?" 

"On  Christmas  Eve  and  early  on  Christmas  morn- 
ing," Rose  Standish  answered,  "little  children  go  about 
from  house  to  house,  singing  Christmas  songs.  'Tis 
what  I  like  best  in  all  the  Christmas  cheer.  And  I 
promised  to  sing  thee  one,  did  I  not?" 

Then  Mistress  Standish  sang  in  her  clear,  sweet 
voice  the  quaint  old  English  words: 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        239 

As  Joseph  was  a-walking, 
He  heard  an  angel  sing: 
"This  night  shall  be  the  birth-time 
Of  Christ,  the  heavenly  King. 

"He  neither  shall  be  born 
In  housen  nor  in  hall, 
Nor  in  the  place  of  Paradise, 
But  in  an  ox's  stall. 

"He  neither  shall  be  clothed 

In  purple  nor  hi  pall, 

But  in  the  fair  white  linen 

That  usen  babies  all. 

"He  neither  shall  be  rocked 

In  silver  nor  in  gold, 
But  in  a  wooden  manger 
That  resteth  in  the  mould." 

As  Joseph  was  a-walking 

There  did  an  angel  sing, 
And  Mary's  child  at  midnight 

Was  born  to  be  our  King. 

Then  be  ye  glad,  good  people, 

This  night  of  all  the  year, 
And  light  ye  up  your  candles, 

For  His  star  it  shineth  clear. 

Before  the  song  was  over,  Hannah  had  come  on 
deck  again,  and  was  listening  eagerly.  "I  thank  thee, 
Mistress  Standish,"  she  said,  the  tears  filling  her  blue 
eyes.  "  'Tis  long,  indeed,  since  I  have  heard  that 
song." 


240        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"Would  it  be  wrong  for  me  to  learn  to  sing  those 
words,  Mistress  Standish?"  gently  questioned  the  little 
girl. 

"Nay,  Remember,  I  trow  not.  The  song  shall  be 
thy  Christmas  gift." 

Then  Mistress  Standish  taught  the  little  girl  one 
verse  after  another  of  the  sweet  old  carol,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  Remember  could  say  it  all. 

The  next  day  was  dull  and  cold,  and  on  Monday, 
the  twenty-fifth,  the  sky  was  still  overcast.  There 
was  no  bright  Yule  log  in  the  Mayflower,  and  no  holly 
trimmed  the  little  cabin. 

The  Pilgrims  were  true  to  the  faith  they  loved. 
They  held  no  special  service.  They  made  no  gifts. 
Instead,  they  went  again  to  the  work  of  cutting  the 
trees,  and  no  one  murmured  at  his  hard  lot. 

"We  went  on  shore,"  one  man  wrote  in  his  diary, 
"some  to  fell  timber,  some  to  saw,  some  to  rive,  and 
some  to  carry;  so  no  man  rested  all  that  day." 

As  for  little  Remember,  she  spent  the  day  on  board 
the  Mayflower.  She  heard  no  one  speak  of  England  or 
sigh  for  the  English  home  across  the  sea.  But  she 
did  not  forget  Mistress  Brewster's  story;  and  more 
than  once  that  day,  as  she  was  playing  by  herself, 
she  fancied  that  she  was  in  front  of  some  English 
home,  helping  the  English  children  sing  their  Christ- 
mas songs. 

And  both  Mistress  Allerton  and  Mistress  Standish, 
whom  God  was  soon  to  call  away  from  their  earthly 


CHRISTMAS  CHILDREN'S  STORIES         241 

home,  felt  happier  and  stronger  as  they  heard  the  little 
girl  singing: 

He  neither  shall  be  born 

In  housen  nor  in  hall, 
Nor  in  the  place  of  Paradise, 

But  in  an  ox's  stall. 


XXVI 

THE  CRATCHITS'  CHRISTMAS  DINNER 

(Adapted) 

CHARLES    DICKENS 

SCROOGE  and  the  Ghost  of  Christmas  Present 
stood  in  the  city  streets  on  Christmas  morning, 
where  (for  the  weather  was  severe)  the  people  made 
a  rough  but  brisk  and  not  unpleasant  kind  of  music, 
hi  scraping  the  snow  from  the  pavement  in  front  of 
their  dwellings,  and  from  the  tops  of  their  houses, 
whence  it  was  mad  delight  to  the  boys  to  see  it  come 
plumping  down  into  the  road  below,  and  splitting  into 
artificial  little  snowstorms. 

The  house  fronts  looked  black  enough,  and  the  win- 
dows blacker,  contrasting  with  the  smooth  white  sheet 
of  snow  upon  the  roofs,  and  with  the  dirtier  snow  upon 
the  ground,  which  last  deposit  had  been  ploughed  up 
in  deep  furrows  by  the  heavy  wheels  of  carts  and  wagons  ; 
furrows  that  crossed  and  recrossed  each  other  hundreds 
of  times  where  the  great  streets  branched  off ,  and  made 
intricate  channels,  hard  to  trace,  in  the  thick  yellow 
mud  and  icy  water.  The  sky  was  gloomy,  and  the 
shortest  streets  were  choked  up  with  a  dingy  mist, 
half  thawed,  hali  frozen,  whose  heavier  particles 

243 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        243 

descended  in  a  shower  of  sooty  atoms,  as  if  all  the 
chimneys  in  Great  Britain  had,  by  one  consent, 
caught  fire,  and  were  blazing  away  to  their  dear 
heart's  content.  There  was  nothing  very  cheerful 
in  the  climate  or  the  town,  and  yet  was  there  an  air  of 
cheerfulness  abroad  that  the  clearest  summer  air  and 
brightest  summer  sun  might  have  endeavoured  to 
diffuse  in  vain. 

For  the  people  who  were  shovelling  away  on  the 
housetops  were  jovial  and  full  of  glee,  calling  out  to  one 
another  from  the  parapets,  and  now  and  then  exchang- 
ing a  facetious  snowball  —  better-natured  missile  far 
than  many  a  wordy  jest  —  laughing  heartily  if  it  went 
right,  and  not  less  heartily  if  it  went  wrong.  The  poul- 
terers' shops  were  still  half  open,  and  the  fruiterers'  were 
radiant  in  their  glory.  There  were  great,  round,  pot- 
bellied baskets  of  chestnuts,  shaped  like  the  waist- 
coats of  jolly  old  gentlemen,  lolling  at  the  doors,  and 
tumbling  out  into  the  street  in  their  apoplectic  opulence. 
There  were  ruddy,  brown-faced,  broad-girthed  Span- 
ish onions,  shining  in  the  fatness  of  their  growth  like 
Spanish  friars,  and  winking,  from  their  shelves,  in 
wanton  slyness  at  the  girls  as  they  went  by,  and 
glanced  demurely  at  the  hung-up  mistletoe.  There 
were  pears  and  apples,  clustering  high  in  blooming 
pyramids;  there  were  bunches  of  grapes,  made,  in  the 
shop-keeper's  benevolence,  to  dangle  from  conspicuous 
hooks,  that  people's  mouths  might  water  gratis  as 
they  passed;  there  were  piles  of  filberts,  mossy  and 


344        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

brown,  recalling,  in  their  fragrance,  ancient  walks 
among  the  woods,  and  pleasant  shufflings  ankle  deep 
through  withered  leaves;  there  were  Norfolk  bif- 
fins, squab  and  swarthy,  setting  off  the  yellow  of 
the  oranges  and  lemons,  and,  in  the  great  compactness 
of  then*  juicy  persons,  urgently  entreating  and  be- 
seeching to  be  carried  home  hi  paper  bags  and  eaten 
after  dinner.  The  very  gold  and  silver  fish,  set  forth 
among  these  choice  fruits  in  a  bowl,  though  members 
of  a  dull  and  stagnant-blooded  race,  appeared  to 
know  that  there  was  something  going  on;  and,  to  a  fish, 
went  gasping  round  and  round  their  little  world  in 
slow  and  passionless  excitement. 

The  grocers'!  oh,  the  grocersM  nearly  closed,  with 
perhaps  two  shutters  down,  or  one;  but  through  those 
gaps  such  glimpses!  It  was  not  alone  that  the  scales 
descending  on  the  counter  made  a  merry  sound,  or  that 
the  twine  and  roller  parted  company  so  briskly,  or  that 
the  canisters  were  rattled  up  and  down  like  juggling 
tricks,  or  even  that  the  blended  scents  of  tea  and  coffee 
were  so  grateful  to  the  nose,  or  even  that  the  raisins 
were  so  plentiful  and  rare,  the  almonds  so  extremely 
white,  the  sticks  of  cinnamon  so  long  and  straight,  the 
Other  spices  so  delicious,  the  candied  fruits  so  caked 
and  spotted  with  molten  sugar  as  to  make  the  coldest 
lookers-on  feel  faint,  and  subsequently  bilious.  Nor 
was  it  that  the  figs  were  moist  and  pulpy,  or  that  the 
French  plums  blushed  in  modest  tartness  from  their 
highly  decorated  boxes,  or  that  everything  was  good 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        245 

to  eat  and  in  its  Christmas  dress;  but  the  customers 
were  all  so  hurried  and  so  eager  in  the  hopeful  promise 
of  the  day  that  they  tumbled  up  against  each  other 
at  the  door,  crashing  their  wicker  baskets  wildly,  and 
left  their  purchases  upon  the  counter,  and  came  running 
back  to  fetch  them,  and  committed  hundreds  of  the 
like  mistakes,  hi  the  best  humour  possible;  while  the 
grocer  and  his  people  were  so  frank  and  fresh  that  the 
polished  hearts  with  which  they  fastened  their  aprons 
behind  might  have  been  their  own,  worn  outside  for 
general  inspection,  and  for  Christmas  daws  to  peck 
at,  if  they  chose. 

But  soon  the  steeples  called  good  people  all  to  church 
and  chapel,  and  away  they  came,  flocking  through  the 
streets  in  their  best  clothes,  and  with  their  gayest 
faces.  And  at  the  same  time  there  emerged  from  scores 
of  by-streets,  lanes,  and  nameless  turnings,  innumerable 
people,  carrying  their  dinners  to  the  bakers'  shops. 
The  sight  of  these  poor  revellers  appeared  to  interest 
the  Spirit  very  much,  for  he  stood,  with  Scrooge  beside 
him,  in  a  baker's  doorway,  and,  taking  off  the  covers 
as  their  bearers  passed,  sprinkled  incense  on  their 
dinners  from  his  torch.  And  it  was  a  very  uncommon 
kind  of  torch,  for  once  or  twice  when  there  were  angry 
words  between  some  dinner-carriers  who  had  jostled 
each  other,  he  shed  a  few  drops  of  water  on  them  from 
it,  and  their  good-humour  was  restored  directly.  For 
they  said  it  was  a  shame  to  quarrel  upon  Christmas 
Day.  And  so  it  was !  God  love  it,  so  it  was ! 


246        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

In  time  the  bells  ceased,  and  the  bakers  were  shut 
up;  and  yet  there  was  a  genial  shadowing  forth  of  all 
these  dinners,  and  the  progress  of  their  cooking,  in 
the  thawed  blotch  of  wet  above  each  baker's  oven, 
where  the  pavement  smoked  as  if  its  stones  were  cooking 
too. 

"Is  tHere  a  peculiar  flavour  in  what  you  sprinkle 
from  your  torch?  "  asked  Scrooge. 

"There  is.     My  own." 

"  Would  it  apply  to  any  kind  of  dinner  on  this  day?  " 
asked  Scrooge. 

"  To  any  kindly  given.    To  a  poor  one  most/' 

"Why  to  a  poor  one  most?"  asked  Scrooge. 

"Because  it  needs  it  most." 

They  went  on,  invisible,  as  they  had  been  before, 
into  the  suburbs  of  the  town.  It  was  a  remarkable 
quality  of  the  Ghost  (which  Scrooge  had  observed  at 
the  baker's)  that,  notwithstanding  his  gigantic  size,  he 
could  accommodate  himself  to  any  place  with  ease; 
and  that  he  stood  beneath  a  low  roof  quite  as  gracefully, 
and  like  a  supernatural  creature,  as  it  was  possible  he 
could  have  done  in  any  lofty  hall. 

And  perhaps  it  was  the  pleasure  the  good  Spirit  had 
in  showing  off  this  power  of  his,  or  else  it  was  his  own 
kind,  generous,  hearty  nature,  and  his  sympathy 
with  all  poor  men,  that  led  him  straight  to  Scrooge's 
clerk's;  for  there  he  went,  and  took  Scrooge  with  him, 
holding  to  his  robe;  and  on  the  threshold  of  the  door 
the  Spirit  smiled,  and  stopped  to  bless  Bob  CratcMt's 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        247 

dwelling  with  the  sprinklings  of  his  torch.  Think  01 
that!  Bob  had  but  fifteen  "bob"  a  week  himself; 
he  pocketed  on  Saturdays  but  fifteen  copies  of  his 
Christian  name;  and  yet  the  Ghost  of  Christmas 
Present  blessed  his  four-roomed  house! 

Then  up  rose  Mrs.  Cratchit,  Cratchit's  wife,  dressed 
out  but  poorly  in  a  twice-turned  gown,  but  brave  hi 
ribbons,  which  are  cheap  and  make  a  goodly  show 
for  sixpence;  and  she  laid  the  cloth,  assisted  by  Belinda 
Cratchit,  second  of  her  daughters,  also  brave  hi  ribbons; 
while  Master  Peter  Cratchit  plunged  a  fork  into  the 
saucepan  of  potatoes,  and  getting  the  corners  of  his 
monstrous  shirt-collar  (Bob's  private  property,  con- 
ferred upon  his  son  and  heir  in  honour  of  the  day)  into 
his  mouth,  rejoiced  to  find  himself  so  gallantly  attired, 
and  yearned  to  show  his  linen  in  the  fashionable  parks. 
And  now  two  smaller  Cratchits,  boy  and  girl,  came 
tearing  in,  screaming  that  outside  the  baker's  they  had 
smelt  the  goose,  and  known  it  for  their  own,  and,  bask- 
ing in  luxurious  thoughts  of  sage  and  onion,  these  young 
Cratchits  danced  about  the  table,  and  exalted  Master 
Peter  Cratchit  to  the  skies,  while  he  (not  proud, 
although  his  collar  nearly  choked  him)  blew  the  fire, 
until  the  slow  potatoes,  bubbling  up,  knocked  loudly 
at  the  saucepan  lid  to  be  let  out  and  peeled. 

"What  has  ever  got  your  precious  father,  then?" 
said  Mrs.  Cratchit.  "And  your  brother,  Tiny  Tim? 
And  Martha  warn't  as  late  last  Christmas  Day  by 
half  an  hour!" 


248        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"Here's  Martha,  mother!"  said  a  girl,  appearing  as 
she  spoke. 

"Here's  Martha,  mother!"  cried  the  two  young 
Cratchits.  "  Hurrah!  There's  such  a  goose,  Martha ! " 

"Why,  bless  your  heart  alive,  my  dear,  how  late  you 
are!"  said  Mrs.  Cratchit,  kissing  her  a  dozen  times, 
and  taking  off  her  shawl  and  bonnet  for  her  with 
officious  zeal. 

"We'd  a  deal  of  work  to  finish  up  last  night," 
replied  the  girl,  "and  had  to  clear  away  this  morning, 
mother!" 

"Well,  never  mind  so  long  as  you  are  come,"  said 
Mrs.  Cratchit.  "  Sit  ye  down  before  the  fire,  my  dear, 
and  have  a  warm,  Lord  bless  ye!" 

"No,  no!  There's  father  coming!"  cried  the  two 
young  Cratchits,  who  were  everywhere  at  once. 
"Hide,  Martha,  hide!" 

So  Martha  hid  herself,  and  in  came  little  Bob, 
the  father,  with  at  least  three  feet  of  comforter,  ex- 
clusive of  the  fringe,  hanging  down  before  him,  and  his 
threadbare  clothes  darned  up  and  brushed,  to  look 
seasonable;  and  Tiny  Tun  upon  his  shoulder.  Alas  for 
Tiny  Tim,  he  bore  a  little  crutch,  and  had  his  limbs 
supported  by  an  iron  frame! 

"Why,  where's  our  Martha?"  cried  Bob  Cratchit, 
looking  around. 

"Not  coming,"  said  Mrs.  Cratchit. 

"Not  coming?"  said  Bob,  with  a  sudden  declension 
in  his  high  spirits;  for  he  had  been  Tim's  blood  horse 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        249 

all  the  way  from  the  church,  and  had  corne  home 
rampant.  "Not  coming  upon  Christmas  Day?" 

Martha  didn't  like  to  see  him  disappointed,  if  it 
were  only  in  joke;  so  she  came  out  prematurely  from 
behind  the  closet  door,  and  ran  into  his  arms,  while 
the  two  young  Cratchits  hustled  Tiny  Tun,  and  bore 
him  off  into  the  wash-house,  that  he  might  hear  the 
pudding  singing  in  the  copper. 

"And  how  did  little  Tim  behave?"  asked  Mrs. 
Cratchit,  when  she  had  rallied  Bob  on  his  credulity, 
and  Bob  had  hugged  his  daughter  to  his  heart's  content. 

"As  good  as  gold,"  said  Bob,  "and  better.  Somehow 
he  gets  thoughtful,  sitting  by  himself  so  much,  and 
thinks  the  strangest  things  you  ever  heard.  He  told 
me,  coming  home,  that  he  hoped  the  people  saw  him 
in  the  church,  because  he  was  a  cripple,  and  it  might 
be  pleasant  to  them  to  remember,  upon  Christmas  Day, 
who  made  lame  beggars  walk,  and  blind  men  see." 

Bob's  voice  was  tremulous  when  he  told  them  this, 
and  trembled  more  when  he  said  that  Tiny  Tun  was 
growing  strong  and  hearty. 

His  active  little  crutch  was  heard  upon  the  floor, 
and  back  came  Tiny  Tim  before  another  word  was 
spoken,  escorted  by  his  brother  and  sister  to  his  stool 
beside  the  fire;  and  while  Bob,  turning  up  his  cuffs  — 
as  if,  poor  fellow,  they  were  capable  of  being  made  more 
shabby  —  compounded  some  hot  mixture  hi  a  jug 
with  gin  and  lemons,  and  stirred  it  round  and  round, 
and  put  it  OP  the  hob  to  simmer,  Master  Peter  and 


250        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

the  two  ubiquitous  young  Cratchits  went  to  fetch 
the  goose,  with  which  they  soon  returned  hi  high 
procession. 

Such  a  bustle  ensued  that  you  might  have  thought 
a  goose  the  rarest  of  all  birds  —  a  feathered  phenom- 
enon, to  which  a  black  swan  was  a  matter  of  course  — 
and  in  truth  it  was  something  very  like  it  in  that  house. 
Mrs.  Cratchit  made  the  gravy  (ready  beforehand  in  a 
little  saucepan)  hissing  hot;  Master  Peter  mashed 
the  potatoes  with  incredible  vigour;  Miss  Belinda  sweet- 
ened up  the  apple-sauce;  Martha  dusted  the  hot  plates; 
Bob  took  Tiny  Tun  beside  him  in  a  tiny  corner  at 
the  table;  the  two  young  Cratchits  set  chairs  for 
everybody,  not  forgetting  themselves,  and,  mounting 
guard  upon  their  posts,  crammed  spoons  into  their 
mouths,  lest  they  should  shriek  for  goose  before  their 
turn  came  to  be  helped.  At  last  the  dishes  were  set  on, 
and  grace  was  said.  It  was  succeeded  by  a  breathless 
pause,  as  Mrs.  Cratchit,  looking  slowly  all  along  the 
carving  knife,  prepared  to  plunge  it  into  the  breast; 
but  when  she  did,  and  when  the  long  expected  gush 
of  stuffing  issued  forth,  one  murmur  of  delight  arose 
all  round  the  board,  and  even  Tiny  Tim,  excited  by 
the  two  young  Cratchits,  beat  on  the  table  with  the 
nandle  of  his  knife,  and  feebly  cried,  "  Hurrah !" 

There  never  was  such  a  goose.  Bob  said  he  didn't 
believe  there  ever  was  such  a  goose  cooked.  Its  tender- 
ness and  flavour,  size  and  cheapness,  were  the  themes 
of  universal  admiration.  Eked  out  by  apple-sauce 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        251 

mashed  potatoes,  it  was  a  sufficient  dinner  for 
the  whole  family;  indeed,  as  Mrs.  Cratchit  said 
with  great  delight  (surveying  one  small  atom  of  a  bone 
upon  the  dish),  they  hadn't  ate  it  all  at  last!  Yet 
every  one  had  had  enough,  and  the  youngest  Crat- 
chits  in  particular  were  steeped  in  sage  and  onion  to 
the  eyebrows!  But  now,  the  plates  being  changed  by 
Miss  Belinda,  Mrs.  Cratchit  left  the  room  alone  —  too 
nervous  to  bear  witnesses  —  to  take  the  pudding  up, 
and  bring  it  in. 

Suppose  it  should  not  be  done  enough?  Suppose 
it  should  break  in  turning  out?  Suppose  somebody 
should  have  got  over  the  wall  of  the  backyard  and 
stolen  it,  while  they  were  merry  with  the  goose  —  a 
supposition  at  which  the  two  young  Cratchits  became 
livid !  All  sorts  of  horrors  were  supposed. 

Hallo!  A  great  deal  of  steam!  The  pudding  was 
out  of  the  copper.  A  smell  like  a  washing-day!  That 
was  the  cloth.  A  smell  like  an  eating  house  and  a 
pastry-cook's  next  door  to  each  other,  with  a  laundress's 
next  door  to  that!  That  was  the  pudding!  In  half 
a  minute  Mrs.  Cratchit  entered  —  flushed,  but  smiling 
proudly — with  the  pudding,  like  a  speckled  cannon-ball, 
so  hard  and  firm,  blazing  in  half  of  half-a-quarterr 
of  ignited  brandy,  and  bedight  with  Christmas  holly 
stuck  into  the  top. 

Oh,  a  wonderful  pudding!  Bob  Cratchit  said, 
and  calmly,  too,  that  he  regarded  it  as  the  greatest 
success  achieved  by  Mrs.  Cratchit  since  their  marriage. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Mrs.  Cratchit  said  that,  now  the  weight  was  off  her 
mind,  she  would  confess  she  had  her  doubts  about  the 
quantity  of  flour.  Everybody  had  something  to  say 
about  it,  but  nobody  thought  or  said  it  was  at  all  a 
small  pudding  for  a  large  family.  It  would  have  been 
flat  heresy  to  do  so.  Any  Cratchit  would  have  blushed 
to  hint  at  such  a  thing. 

At  last  the  dinner  was  all  done,  the  cloth  was  cleared, 
the  hearth  swept,  and  the  fire  made  up.  The  com- 
pound in  the  jug  being  tasted,  and  considered  perfect, 
apples  and  oranges  were  put  upon  the  table,  and  a 
shovelful  of  chestnuts  on  the  fire.  Then  all  the  Cratchit 
family  drew  round  the  hearth  in  what  Bob  Cratchit 
called  a  circle,  meaning  half  a  one;  and  at  Bob  Cratchit 's 
elbow  stood  the  family  display  of  glass  —  two  tumblers 
and  a  custard-cup  without  a  handle. 

These  held  the  hot  stuff  from  the  jug,  however,  as 
well  as  golden  goblets  would  have  done;  and  Bob  served 
it  out  with  beaming  looks,  while  the  chestnuts  on  the 
fire  sputtered  and  cracked  noisily.  Then  Bob  pro- 
posed: 

"A  Merry  Christmas  to  us  all,  my  dears.  Goo 
bless  us!" 

Which  all  the  family  reechoed. 

"God  bless  us  every  one!"  said  Tiny  Tim,  the 
last  of  all. 


XXVII 
CHRISTMAS  IN  SEVENTEEN    SEVENTY-SIX* 

ANNE  HOLLINGSWORTH  WHARTON 

"On  Christmas  day  in  Seventy-six, 

Our  gallant  troops  with  bayonets  fixed, 
To  Trenton  marched  away." 

CHILDREN,  have  any  of  you  ever  thought  of 
what  little  people  like  you  were  doing  in  this 
country  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  when  the 
cruel  tide  of  war  swept  over  its  bosom?  From  many 
homes  the  fathers  were  absent,  fighting  bravely  for 
the  liberty  which  we  now  enjoy,  while  the  mothers  no 
less  valiantly  struggled  against  hardships  and  dis- 
comforts in  order  to  keep  a  home  for  their  children, 
whom  you  only  know  as  your  great-grandfathers  and 
great-grandmothers,  dignified  gentlemen  and  beautiful 
ladies,  whose  painted  portraits  hang  upon  the  walls 
in  some  of  your  homes.  Merry,  romping  children 
they  were  in  those  far-off  times,  yet  their  bright  faces 
must  have  looked  grave  sometimes,  when  they  heard 
the  grown  people  talk  of  the  great  things  that  were 
happening  around  them.  Some  of  these  little  people 

*From  "A  Last  Century  Maid  and  Other  Stories  for  Children,"  by 
A.  H.  W.  Lippincott,  1895. 


254        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

never  forgot  the  wonderful  events  of  which  they  heard, 
and  afterward  related  them  to  their  children  and 
grandchildren,  which  accounts  for  some  of  the  inter- 
esting stories  which  you  may  still  hear,  if  you  are 
good  children. 

The  Christmas  story  that  I  have  to  tell  you  is  about 
a  boy  and  girl  who  lived  in  Bordentown,  New  Jersey. 
The  father  of  these  children  was  a  soldier  in  General 
Washington's  army,  which  was  encamped  a  few  miles 
north  of  Trenton,  on  the  Pennsylvania  side  of  the 
Delaware  River.  Bordentown,  as  you  can  see  by 
looking  on  your  map,  if  you  have  not  hidden  them  all 
away  for  the  holidays,  is  about  seven  miles  south  of 
Trenton,  where  fifteen  hundred  Hessians  and  a 
troop  of  British  light  horse  were  holding  the  town. 
Thus  you  see  that  the  British,  hi  force,  were  between 
Washington's  army  and  Bordentown,  besides  which 
there  were  some  British  and  Hessian  troops  in  the 
very  town.  AH  this  seriously  interfered  with  Captain 
Tracy's  going  home  to  eat  his  Christmas  dinner  with 
his  wife  and  children.  Kitty  and  Harry  Tracy,  who 
had  not  lived  long  enough  to  see  many  wars,  could  not 
imagine  such  a  thing  as  Christmas  without  their  father, 
and  had  busied  themselves  for  weeks  in  making  every- 
thing ready  to  have  a  merry  time  with  him.  Kitty, 
who  loved  to  play  quite  as  much  as  any  frolicsome 
Kitty  of  to-day,  had  spent  all  her  spare  time  in  knit- 
ting a  pair  of  thick  woollen  stockings,  which  seems  a 
wonderful  feat  for  a  little  girl  only  eight  years  old  to 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        255 

perform!  Can  you  not  see  her  sitting  by  the  great 
chimney-place,  filled  with  its  roaring,  crackling  logs, 
in  her  quaint,  short-waisted  dress,  knitting  away  stead- 
ily, and  puckering  up  her  rosy,  dimpled  face  over 
the  strange  twists  and  turns  of  that  old  stocking?  I 
can  see  her,  and  I  can  also  hear  her  sweet  voice  as  she 
chatters  away  to  her  mother  about  "how  'sprised 
papa  will  be  to  find  that  his  little  girl  can  knit  like  a 
grown-up  woman,"  while  Harry  spreads  out  on  the 
hearth  a  goodly  store  of  shellbarks  that  he  has 
gathered  and  is  keeping  for  his  share  of  the  'sprise. 

"  What  if  he  shouldn't  come?"  asks  Harry,  suddenly. 

"Oh,  he'll  come!  Papa  never  stays  away  on  Christ- 
mas," says  Kitty,  looking  up  into  her  mother's  face 
for  an  echo  to  her  words.  Instead  she  sees  something 
very  like  tears  in  her  mother's  eyes. 

"Oh,  mamma,  don't  you  think  he'll  come?" 

"He  will  come  if  he  possibly  can,"  says  Mrs.  Tracy; 
"and  if  he  cannot,  we  will  keep  Christmas  whenever 
dear  papa  does  come  home." 

"It  won't  be  half  so  nice,"  said  Kitty,  "nothing's 
so  nice  as  really  Christmas,  and  how's  Kriss  Kringle 
going  to  know  about  it  if  we  change  the  day?  " 

"We'll  let  him  come  just  the  same,  and  if  he  brings 
anything  for  papa  we  can  put  it  away  for  him." 

This  plan,  still,  seemed  a  poor  one  to  Miss  Kitty, 
who  went  to  her  bed  in  a  sober  mood  that  night,  and 
was  heard  telling  her  dear  dollie,  Martha  Washington, 
that  "wars  were  mis'able,  and  that  when  she  married 


256        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

she  should  have  a  man  who  kept  a  candy-shop  for  a 
husband,  and  not  a  soldier  —  no,  Martha,  not  even  if 
he's  as  nice  as  papal"  As  Martha  made  no  objection 
to  this  little  arrangement,  being  an  obedient  child, 
they  were  both  soon  fast  asleep. 

The  days  of  that  cold  winter  of  1776  wore  on;  so 
cold  it  was  that  the  sufferings  of  the  soldiers  were  great, 
their  bleeding  feet  often  leaving  marks  on  the  pure 
white  snow  over  which  they  marched.  As  Christmas 
drew  near  there  was  a  feeling  among  the  patriots  that 
some  blow  was  about  to  be  struck;  but  what  it  was, 
and  from  whence  they  knew  not;  and,  better  than  all, 
the  British  had  no  idea  that  any  strong  blow  could  come 
from  Washington's  army,  weak  and  out  of  heart> 
as  they  thought,  after  being  chased  through  Jersey 
by  Cornwallis. 

Mrs.  Tracy  looked  anxiously  each  day  for  news  of 
the  husband  and  father  only  a  few  miles  away,  yet 
so  separated  by  the  river  and  the  enemy's  troops 
that  they  seemed  like  a  hundred.  Christmas  Eve 
came,  but  brought  with  it  few  rejoicings.  The  hearts 
of  the  people  were  too  sad  to  be  taken  up  with  merry- 
making, although  the  Hessian  soldiers  in  the  town, 
good-natured  Germans,  who  only  fought  the  Americans 
because  they  were  paid  for  it,  gave  themselves  up  to  the 
feasting  and  revelry. 

"Shall  we  hang  up  our  stockings?"  asked  Kitty,  in 
rather  a  doleful  voice. 

"Yes,"  said  her  mother,  "Santa  Claus  won't  forget 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        257 

you,  I  am  sure,  although  he  has  been  kept  pretty  busy 
looking  after  the  soldiers  this  winter." 

"Which  side  is  he  on?"  asked  Harry. 

"The  right  side,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Tracy,  which 
was  the  most  sensible  answer  she  could  possibly  have 
given.  So: 

"  The  stockings  were  hung  by  the  chimney  with  care, 
In  hopes  that  St.  Nicholas  soon  would  be  there." 

Two  little  rosy  faces  lay  fast  asleep  upon  the  pillow 
when  the  good  old  soul  came  dashing  over  the  roof 
about  one  o'clock,  and  after  filling  each  stocking  with 
red  apples,  and  leaving  a  cornucopia  of  sugar-plums  for 
each  child,  he  turned  for  a  moment  to  look  at  the  sleep- 
ing faces,  for  St.  Nicholas  has  a  tender  spot  in  his 
great  big  heart  for  a  soldier's  children.  Then,  remenv 
bering  many  other  small  folks  waiting  for  him  all 
over  the  land,  he  sprang  up  the  chimney  and  was 
away  in  a  trice. 

Santa  Claus,  in  the  form  of  Mrs.  Tracy's  farmer 
brother,  brought  her  a  splendid  turkey;  but  because  the 
Hessians  were  uncommonly  fond  of  turkey,  it  came  hid- 
den under  a  load  of  wood.  Harry  was  very  fond  of  tur- 
key, too,  as  well  as  of  all  other  good  things ;  but  when  his 
mother  said,  "It's  such  a  fine  bird,  it  seems  too  bad  to 
eat  it  without  father,"  Harry  cried  out,  "  Yes,  keep  it  for 
papa!"  and  Kitty,  joining  in  the  chorus,  the  vote  was 
unanimous,  and  the  turkey  was  hung  away  to  await  the 
return  of  the  good  soldier,  although  it  seemed  strange, 


258        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

as  Kitty  told  Martha  Washington,  "to  have  no  papa 
and  no  turkey  on  Christmas  Day." 

The  day  passed  and  night  came,  cold  with  a  steady 
fall  of  rain  and  sleet.  Kitty  prayed  that  her  "dear 
papa  might  not  be  out  in  the  storm,  and  that  he  might 
come  home  and  wear  his  beautiful  blue  stockings"; 
"And  eat  his  turkey,"  said  Harry's  sleepy  voice;  after 
which  they  were  soon  in  the  land  of  dreams.  Toward 
morning  the  good  people  in  Bordentown  were  suddenly 
aroused  by  firing  in  the  distance,  which  became  more 
and  more  distinct  as  the  day  wore  on.  There  was  great 
excitement  in  the  town;  men  and  women  gatheied 
together  in  little  groups  in  the  streets  to  wonder  what 
it  was  all  about,  and  neighbours  came  dropping  into 
Mrs.  Tracy's  parlour,  all  day  long,  one  after  the  other, 
to  say  what  they  thought  of  the  firing.  In  the  evening 
there  came  a  body  of  Hessians  flying  into  the  town,  to 
say  that  General  Washington  had  surprised  the  British 
at  Trenton,  early  that  morning,  and  completely  routed 
them,  which  so  frightened  the  Hessians  in  Borden- 
town that  they  left  without  the  slightest  ceremony. 
It  was  a  joyful  hour  to  the  good  town  people  when  the 
red-jackets  turned  their  backs  on  them,  thinking  every 
moment  that  the  patriot  army  would  be  after  them. 
Indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  wonders  would  never  cease 
that  day,  for  while  rejoicings  were  still  loud,  over  the 
departure  of  the  enemy,  there  came  a  knock  at  Mrs. 
Tracy's  door,  and  while  she  was  wondering  whether 
she  dared  open  it,  it  was  pushed  ajar,  and  a  tall  soldier 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        259 

entered.  What  a  scream  of  delight  greeted  that  soldier, 
and  how  Kitty  and  Harry  danced  about  him  and  clung 
to  his  knees,  while  Mrs.  Tracy  drew  him  toward  the 
warm  blaze,  and  helped  him  off  with  his  damp  cloak! 
Cold  and  tired  Captain  Tracy  was,  after  a  night's 
march  in  the  streets  and  a  day's  fighting;  but  he  was 
not  too  weary  to  smile  at  the  dear  faces  around  him, 
or  to  pat  Kitty's  head  when  she  brought  his  warm 
stockings  and  would  put  them  on  the  tired  feet,  her- 
self. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  sharp,  quick  bark  outside 
the  door.  "  What's  that?  "  cried  Harry 

"  Oh,  I  forgot.    Open  the  door.    Here,  Fido,  Fido ! " 

Into  the  room  there  sprang  a  beautiful  little  King 
Charles  spaniel,  white,  with  tan  spots,  and  ears  of 
the  longest,  softest,  and  silkiest. 

"What  a  little  dear!"  exclaimed  Kitty;  "where 
did  it  come  from?" 

"From  the  battle  of  Trenton,"  said  her  father. 
"His  poor  master  was  shot.  After  the  red-coats 
had  turned  their  backs,  and  I  was  hurrying  along  one 
of  the  streets  where  the  fight  had  been  the  fiercest,  I 
heard  a  low  groan,  and,  turning,  saw  a  British  officer 
lying  among  a  number  of  slain.  I  raised  his  head;  he 
begged  for  some  water,  which  I  brought  him,  and  bend- 
ing down  my  ear  I  heard  him  whisper,  'Dying  —  last 
battle  —  say  a  prayer.'  He  tried  to  follow  me  in  the 
words  of  a  prayer,  and  then,  taking  my  hand,  laid  it  on 
something  soft  and  warm,  nestling  close  up  to  his 


26o        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

breast  —  it  was  this  little  dog.  The  gentleman  — 
for  he  was  a  real  gentleman  —  gasped  out,  'Take  care 
of  my  poor  Fido;  good-night,'  and  was  gone.  It  was 
as  much  as  I  could  do  to  get  the  little  creature  away 
from  his  dead  master;  he  clung  to  him  as  if  he  loved 
him  better  than  life.  You'll  take  care  of  him,  won't 
you,  children?  I  brought  him  home  to  you,  for  a 
Christmas  present." 

"Pretty  little  Fido,"  said  Kitty,  taking  the  soft, 
curly  creature  in  her  arms;  "  I  think  it's  the  best  present 
in  the  world,  and  to-morrow  is  to  be  real  Christmas, 
because  you  are  home,  papa." 

"And  we'll  eat  the  turkey,"  said  Harry,  "and  shell- 
barks,  lots  of  them,  that  I  saved  for  you.  What  a  good 
time  we'll  have!  And  oh,  papa,  don't  go  to  war  any 
more,  but  stay  at  home,  with  mother  and  Kitty  and 
Fido  and  me." 

"What  would  become  of  our  country  if  we  should 
all  do  that,  my  little  man?  It  was  a  good  day's  work 
that  we  did  this  Christmas,  getting  the  army  all  across 
the  river  so  quickly  and  quietly  that  we  surprised  the 
enemy,  and  gained  a  victory,  with  the  loss  of  few  men." 

Thus  it  was  that  some  of  the  good  people  of  1776 
spent  their  Christmas,  that  their  children  and  grand- 
children might  spend  many  of  them  as  citizens  of  a 
free  nation. 


XXVIII 
CHRISTMAS  UNDER  THE  SNOW* 

OLIVE   THORNE   MILLER 

IT  WAS  just  before  Christmas,  and  Mr.  Barnes 
was  starting  for  the  nearest  village.  The  family 
were  out  at  the  door  to  see  him  start,  and  give  him  the 
last  charges. 

"Don't  forget  the  Christmas  dinner,  papa,"  said 
Willie. 

"' Specially  the  chickens  for  the  pie!"  put  in  Nora. 

"An'  the  waisins,"  piped  up  little  Tot,  standing  on 
tiptoe  to  give  papa  a  good-bye  kiss. 

"I  hate  to  have  you  go,  George,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes 
anxiously.  "  It  looks  to  me  like  a  storm. " 

"Oh,  I  guess  it  won't  be  much,"  said  Mr.  Barnes 
lightly;  "and  the  youngsters  must  have  their  Christ- 
mas dinner,  you  know. " 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes,  "remember  this,  George: 
if  there  is  a  bad  storm  don't  try  to  come  back.  Stay  in 
the  village  till  it  is  over.  We  can  get  along  alone  for  a 
few  days,  can't  we,  Willie?  "  turning  to  the  boy  who  was 
giving  the  last  touches  to  the  harness  of  old  Tim, 
the  horse. 

*From  "Kristy's  Queer  Christmas,"  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  1904. 


262        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"Oh,  yes!  Papa,  I  can  take  care  of  mamma,"  said 
Willie  earnestly. 

4 'And  get  up  the  Christmas  dinner  out  of  nothing?" 
asked  papa,  smiling. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Willie,  hesitating,  as  he 
remembered  the  proposed  dinner,  in  which  he  felt  a 
deep  interest. 

"What  could  you  do  for  the  chicken  pie?"  went  on 
papa  with  a  roguish  look  hi  his  eye,  "or  the  plum- 
pudding?" 

"Or  the  waisins?"  broke  in  Tot  anxiously. 

"Tot  has  set  her  heart  on  the  raisins,"  said  papa, 
tossing  the  small  maiden  up  higher  than  his  head,  and 
dropping  her  all  laughing  on  the  door-step,  "and  Tot 

shall  have  them  sure,  if  papa  can  find  them  in  S . 

Now  good-bye,  all!  Willie,  remember  to  take  care  of 
mamma,  and  I  depend  on  you  to  get  up  a  Christmas 
dinner  if  I  don't  get  back.  Now,  wife,  don't  worry!" 
were  his  last  words  as  the  faithful  old  horse  started 
down  the  road. 

Mrs.  Barnes  turned  one  more  glance  to  the  west, 
where  a  low,  heavy  bank  of  clouds  was  slowly  rising, 
and  went  into  the  little  house  to  attend  to  her  morn- 
ing duties. 

"Willie,"  she  said,  when  they  were  all  in  the  snug 
little  log-cabin  in  which  they  lived,  "I'm  sure  there's 
going  to  be  a  storm,  and  it  may  be  snow.  You  had 
better  prepare  enough  wood  for  two  or  three  days; 
Nora  will  help  bring  it  in. " 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES       263 

"Me,  too!"  said  grave  little  Tot. 

"  Yes,  Tot  may  help  too,"  said  mamma. 

This  simple  little  home  was  a  busy  place,  and  soon 
every  one  was  hard  at  work.  It  was  late  in  the  after- 
noon before  the  pile  of  wood,  which  had  been  steadily 
growing  all  day,  was  high  enough  to  satisfy  Willie, 
for  now  there  was  no  doubt  about  the  coming  storm, 
and  it  would  probably  bring  snow;  no  one  could  guess 
how  much,  in  that  country  of  heavy  storms. 

"I  wish  the  village  was  not  so  far  off,  so  that  papa 
could  get  back  to-night,"  said  Willie,  as  he  came  in 
with  his  last  load. 

Mrs.  Barnes  glanced  out  of  the  window.  Broad 
scattering  snowflakes  were  silently  falling;  the  advance 
guard,  she  felt  them  to  be,  of  a  numerous  host. 

"So  do  I,"  she  replied  anxiously,  "or  that  he  did  not 
have  to  come  over  that  dreadful  prairie,  where  it  is 
so  easy  to  get  lost. " 

"But  old  Tim  knows  the  way,  even  in  the  dark, "  said 
Willie  proudly.  "I  believe  Tim  knows  more'n  some 
folks." 

"No  doubt  he  does,  about  the  way  home,"  said 
mamma,  "and  we  won't  worry  about  papa,  but  have 
our  supper  and  go  to  bed.  That'll  make  the  time 
seem  short. " 

'» >  The  mea1  ™7as  soon  eaten  and  cleared  away,  the  fire 

,  carefully  covered  up  on  the  hearth,  and  the  whole  little 

family  quietly  in  bed.    Then  the  storm,  which  had  been 

making  ready  all  day,  came  down  upon  them  in  earnest* 


264        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

The  bleak  wind  howled  around  the  corners,  the  white 
flakes  by  millions  and  millions  came  with  it,  and  hurled 
themselves  upon  that  house.  In  fact,  that  poor  little 
cabin  alone  on  the  wide  prairie  seemed  to  be  the  object 
of  their  sport.  They  sifted  through  the  cracks  in 
the  walls,  around  the  windows,  and  under  the  door, 
and  made  pretty  little  drifts  on  the  floor.  They  piled 
up  against  it  outside,  covered  the  steps,  and  then  the 
door,  and  then  the  windows,  and  then  the  roof,  and 
at  last  buried  it  completely  out  of  sight  under  the  soft, 
white  mass. 

And  all  the  tune  the  mother  and  her  three  children 
lay  snugly  covered  up  hi  their  beds  fast  asleep,  and 
knew  nothing  about  it. 

The  night  passed  away  and  morning  came,  but  no 
light  broke  through  the  windows  of  the  cabin.  Mrs. 
Barnes  woke  at  the  usual  tune,  but  finding  it  still  dark 
and  perfectly  quiet  outside,  she  concluded  that  the 
storm  was  over,  and  with  a  sigh  of  relief  turned  ovei 
to  sleep  again.  About  eight  o'clock,  however,  she  could 
sleep  no  more,  and  became  wide  awake  enough  to  think 
the  darkness  strange.  At  that  moment  the  clock  struck, 
and  the  truth  flashed  over  her. 

Being  buried  under  snow  is  no  uncommon  thing  on 
the  wide  prairies,  and  since  they  had  wood  and  corn- 
meal  in  plenty,  she  would  not  have  been  much  alarmed 
if  her  husband  had  been  home.  But  snow  deep  enough 
to  bury  them  must  cover  up  all  landmarks,  and  she 
knew  her  husband  would  not  rest  till  he  had  found 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        265 

them.  To  get  lost  on  the  trackless  prairie  was  fearfully 
easy,  and  to  suffer  and  die  almost  in  sight  of  home  was 
no  unusual  thing,  and  was  her  one  dread  in  living 
there. 

A  few  moments  she  lay  quiet  in  bed,  to  calm  herself 
and  get  control  of  her  own  anxieties  before  she  spoke 
to  the  children. 

"  Willie, "  she  said  at  last,  "  are  you  awake?  " 

"Yes,  mamma,"  said  Willie;  "I've  been  awake  ever 
so  long;  isn't  it  most  morning?  " 

"Willie,"  said  the  mother  quietly,  "we  mustn't  be 
frightened,  but  I  think  —  I'm  afraid  —  we  are  snowed 


in." 


Willie  bounded  to  his  feet  and  ran  to  the  door. 

"Don't  open  it!"  said  mamma  hastily;  "the  snow 
may  fall  in.  Light  a  candle  and  look  out  the  window. " 

In  a  moment  the  flickering  rays  of  the  candle  fell 
upon  the  window.  Willie  drew  back  the  curtain. 
Snow  was  tightly  banked  up  against  it  to  the  top. 

"Why,  mamma,"  he  exclaimed,  "so we  are!  and  how 
can  papa  find  us?  and  what  shall  we  do?" 

"We  must  do  the  best  we  can,"  said  mamma,  hi  a 
voice  which  she  tried  to  make  steady,  "and  trust  that 
it  isn't  very  deep,  and  that  Tun  and  papa  will  find  us, 
and  dig  us  out. " 

By  this  tune  the  little  girls  were  awake  and  inclined 
to  be  very  much  frightened,  but  mamma  was  calm 
now,  and  Willie  was  brave  and  hopeful. 

They  aU  dressed,  and  Willie  started  the  fire.    The 


266        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

smoke  refused  to  rise,  but  puffed  out  into  the  room, 
and  Mrs.  Barnes  knew  that  if  the  chimney  were  closed 
they  would  probably  suffocate,  if  they  did  not  starve 
or  freeze. 

The  smoke  in  a  few  minutes  choked  them,  and,  seeing 
that  something  must  be  done,  she  put  the  two  girls, 
well  wrapped  in  blankets,  into  the  shed  outside  the 
back  door,  closed  the  door  to  keep  out  the  smoVc,  and 
then  went  with  Willie  to  the  low  attic,  where  a  scuttle 
door  opened  onto  the  roof. 

"We  must  try,"  she  said,  "to  get  it  open  without 
letting  in  too  much  snow,  and  see  if  we  can  manage 
to  clear  the  chimney. " 

"I  can  reach  the  chimney  from  the  scuttle  with  a 
shovel, "  said  Willie.  "  I  often  have  with  a  stick. " 

After  much  labour,  and  several  small  avalanches 
of  snow,  the  scuttle  was  opened  far  enough  for  Willie 
to  stand  on  the  top  round  of  the  short  ladder,  and  beat 
a  hole  through  to  the  light,  which  was  only  a  foot 
above.  He  then  shovelled  off  the  top  of  the  chimney, 
which  was  ornamented  with  a  big  round  cushion  of 
snow,  and  then  by  beating  and  shovelling  he  was  able 
to  clear  the  door,  which  he  opened  wide,  and  Mrs. 
Barnes  came  up  on  the  ladder  to  look  out.  Dreary  in- 
deed was  the  scene !  Nothing  but  snow  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  and  flakes  still  falling,  though  lightly. 
The  storm  was  evidently  almost  over,  but  the  sky  was 
gray  and  overcast. 

They  closed  the  door,  went  down,  and  soon  had  a 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        267 

fire,  hoping  that  the  smoke  would  guide  somebody 
to  them. 

Breakfast  was  taken  by  candle-light,  dinner  — 
in  time  —  in  the  same  way,  and  supper  passed  with 
no  sound  from  the  outside  world. 

Many  times  Willie  and  mamma  went  to  the  scuttle 
door  to  see  if  any  one  was  in  sight,  but  not  a  shadow 
broke  the  broad  expanse  of  white  over  which  toward 
night  the  sun  shone.  Of  course  there  were  no  signs 
of  the  roads,  for  through  so  deep  snow  none  could 
be  broken,  and  until  the  sun  and  frost  should  form  a 
a  crust  on  top  there  was  little  hope  of  their  being 
reached. 

The  second  morning  broke,  and  Willie  hurried  up 
to  his  post  of  lookout  the  first  thing.  No  person  was 
in  sight,  but  he  found  a  light  crust  on  the  snow,  and  the 
first  thing  he  noticed  was  a  few  half-starved  birds 
trying  in  vain  to  pick  up  something  to  eat.  They 
looked  weak  and  almost  exhausted,  and  a  thought 
struck  WiUie. 

It  was  hard  to  keep  up  the  courage  of  the  little 
household.  Nora  had  openly  lamented  that  to-night 
was  Christmas  Eve,  and  no  Christmas  dinner  to  be 
had.  Tot  had  grown  very  tearful  about  her  "  waisins, " 
and  Mrs.  Barnes,  though  she  tried  to  keep  up  heart, 
had  become  very  pale  and  silent. 

Willie,  though  he  felt  unbounded  faith  in  papa, 
and  especially  in  Tim,  f ound  it  hard  to  suppress  his  own 
Lomulaints  when  he  remembered  that  Christmas  would 


268        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

probably  be  passed  in  the  same  dismal  way,  with  fears 
for  papa  added  to  their  own  misery. 

The  wood,  too,  was  getting  low,  and  mamma  dared 
not  let  the  fire  go  out,  as  that  was  the  only  sign  of  their 
existence  to  anybody;  and  though  she  did  not  speak  of 
it,  Willie  knew,  too,  that  they  had  not  many  candles, 
and  in  two  days  at  farthest  they  would  be  left  hi  the 
dark. 

The  thought  that  struck  Willie  pleased  him  greatly, 
and  he  was  sure  it  would  cheer  up  the  rest.  He  made 
his  plans,  and  went  to  work  to  carry  them  out  without 
saying  anything  about  it. 

He  brought  out  of  a  corner  of  the  attic  an  old  box- 
trap  he  had  used  in  the  summer  to  catch  birds  and  small 
animals,  set  it  carefully  on  the  snow,  and  scattered 
crumbs  of  corn-bread  to  attract  the  birds. 

In  half  an  hour  he  went  up  again,  and  found  to  his 
delight  he  had  caught  bigger  game  —  a  poor  rabbit 
which  had  come  from  no  one  knows  where  over  the 
crust  to  find  food. 

This  gave  Willie  a  new  idea;  they  could  save  their 
Christmas  dinner  after  all;  rabbits  made  very  nice  pies. 
Poor  Bunny  was  quietly  laid  to  rest,  and  the  trap  set 
again.  This  time  another  rabbit  was  caught,  perhapp 
the  mate  of  the  first.  This  was  the  last  of  the  rabbits, 
but  the  next  catch  was  a  couple  of  snowbirds.  These 
Willie  carefully  placed  in  a  corner  of  the  attic,  using 
the  trap  for  a  cage,  and  giving  them  plenty  of  food 
and  water. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        269 

When  the  girls  were  fast  asleep,  with  tears  on  their 
cheeks  for  the  dreadful  Christmas  they  were  going  to 
have,  Willie  told  mamma  about  his  plans.  Mamma 
was  pale  and  weak  with  anxiety,  and  his  news  first 
made  her  laugh  and  then  cry.  But  after  a  few  moments 
given  to  her  long  pent-up  tears,  she  felt  much  better 
and  entered  into  his  plans  heartily. 

The  two  captives  up  hi  the  attic  were  to  be  Christmas 
presents  to  the  girls,  and  the  rabbits  were  to  make  the 
long  anticipated  pie.  As  for  plum-pudding,  of  course 
that  couldn't  be  thought  of. 

"But  don't  you  think,  mamma,"  said  Willie  eagerly, 
"that  you  could  make  some  sort  of  a  cake  out  of  meal, 
and  wouldn't  hickory  nuts  be  good  in  it?  You  know 
I  have  some  left  up  in  the  attic,  and  I  might  crack  them 
softly  up  there,  and  don't  you  think  they  would  be 
good?"  he  concluded  anxiously. 

"Well,  perhaps  so,"  said  mamma,  anxious  to  please 
him  and  help  him  in  his  generous  plans.  "I  can  try. 
If  I  only  had  some  eggs  —  but  seems  to  me  I  have  heard 
that  snow  beaten  into  cake  would  make  it  light  —  and 
there's  snow  enough,  I'm  sure,"  she  added  with  a  faint 
smile,  the  first  Willie  had  seen  for  three  days. 

The  smile  alone  he  felt  to  be  a  great  achievement, 
and  he  crept  carefully  up  the  ladder,  cracked  the  nuts 
to  the  last  one,  brought  them  down,  and  mamma  picked 
the  meats  out,  while  he  dressed  the  two  rabbits  which 
had  come  so  opportunely  to  be  their  Christmas  dinner, 

"Wish  you  Merry  Christmas!"  he  called  out  to  Nora 


270        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

and  Tot  when  they  waked.  "See  what  Santa  Claus 
has  brought  you!" 

Before  they  had  tune  to  remember  what  a  sorry 
Christmas  it  was  to  be,  they  received  their  presents, 
a  live  bird,  for  each,  a  bird  that  was  never  to  be  kept 
in  a  cage,  but  fly  about  the  house  till  summer  came, 
and  then  to  go  away  if  it  wished. 

Pets  were  scarce  on  the  prairie,  and  the  girls  were 
delighted.  Nothing  papa  could  have  brought  them 
would  have  given  them  so  much  happiness. 

They  thought  no  more  of  the  dinner,  but  hurried  to 
dress  themselves  and  feed  the  birds,  which  were  quite 
tame  from  hunger  and  weariness.  But  after  a  while 
they  saw  preparations  for  dinner,  too.  Mamma  made 
a  crust  and  lined  a  deep  dish  —  the  chicken  pie  dish  — 
and  then  she  brought  a  mysterious  something  out  of  the 
cupboard,  all  cut  up  so  that  it  looked  as  if  it  might  be 
chicken,  and  put  it  in  the  dish  with  other  things,  and 
then  she  tucked  them  all  under  a  thick  crust,  and  set 
it  down  in  a  tin  oven  before  the  fire  to  bake.  And 
that  was  not  all.  She  got  out  some  more  cornmeal, 
and  made  a  batter,  and  put  in  some  sugar  and  some- 
thing else  which  she  slipped  in  from  a  bowl,  and  which 
looked  in  the  batter  something  like  raisins;  and  at  the 
last  moment  Willie  brought  her  a  cup  of  snow  and  she 
hastily  beat  it  into  the  cake,  or  pudding,  whichever 
you  might  call  it,  while  the  children  laughed  at  the  idea 
of  making  a  cake  out  of  snow.  This  went  into  the  same 
oven  and  pretty  soon  it  rose  up  light  and  showed  a  beau-, 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        271 

tiful  brown  crust,  while  the  pie  was  steaming  through 
little  fork  holes  on  top,  and  sending  out  most  delicious 
odours. 

At  the  last  minute,  when  the  table  was  set  and 
everything  ready  to  come  up,  Willie  ran  up  to  look  out 
of  the  scuttle,  as  he  had  every  hour  of  daylight  since 
they  were  buried.  In  a  moment  came  a  wild  shout 
down  the  ladder. 

"  They're  coming !    Hurrah  for  old  Tim ! " 

Mamma  rushed  up  and  looked  out,  and  saw  —  to  be 
sure  —  old  Tim  slowly  coming  along  over  the  crust, 
drawing  after  him  a  wood  sled  on  which  were  two  men. 

"It's  papa!"  shouted  Willie,  waving  his  arms  to 
attract  their  attention. 

"  Willie ! "  came  back  over  the  snow  in  tones  of  agony. 
"  Is  that  you?  Are  all  well?  " 

"All  well!"  shouted  Willie,  "and  just  going  to  have 
our  Christmas  dinner. " 

"Dinner?"  echoed  papa,  who  was  now  nearer. 
"Where  is  the  house,  then?" 

"Oh,  down  here!"  said  Willie,  "under  the  snow; 
but  we're  all  right,  only  we  mustn't  let  the  plum- 
pudding  spoil. " 

Looking  into  the  attic,  Willie  found  that  mamma  had 
fainted  away,  and  this  news  brought  to  her  aid  papa 
and  the  other  man,  who  proved  to  be  a  good  friend  who 
had  come  to  help. 

Tim  was  tied  to  the  chimney,  whose  thread  of  smoke 
had  guided  them  home,  and  all  went  down  into  the 


272        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

dark  room.  Mrs.  Barnes  soon  recovered,  and  while 
Willie  dished  up  the  smoking  dinner,  stories  were  told 
on  both  sides. 

Mr.  Barnes  had  been  trying  to  get  through  the 
snow  and  to  find  them  all  the  time,  but  until  the  last 
night  had  made  a  stiff  crust  he  had  been  unable  to  do  so. 

Then  Mrs.  Barnes  told  her  story,  winding  up  with 
the  account  of  Willie's  Christmas  dinner.  "And  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  his  keeping  up  our  hearts  I  don't  know 
what  would  have  become  of  us, "  she  said  at  last. 

"Well,  my  son,"  said  papa,  "you  did  take  care  of 
mamma,  and  get  up  a  dinner  out  of  nothing,  sure 
enough;  and  now  we'll  eat  the  dinner,  which  I  am  sure 
is  delicious. " 

So  it  proved  to  be;  even  the  cake,  or  pudding,  which 
Tot  christened  snow  pudding,  was  voted  very  nice, 
and  the  hickory  nuts  as  good  as  raisins. 

When  they  had  finished,  Mr.  Barnes  brought  in  his 
packages,  gave  Tot  and  the  rest  some  "sure-enough 
waisins,"  and  added  his  Christmas  presents  to  Willie's; 
but  though  all  were  overjoyed,  nothing  was  quite  so 
nice  in  their  eyes  as  the  two  live  birds. 

After  dinner  the  two  men  and  Willie  dug  out 
passages  from  the  doors,  through  the  snow,  which  had 
wasted  a  good  deal,  uncovered  the  windows,  and  made 
a  slanting  way  to  his  shed  for  old  Tun.  Then  for  two  or 
three  days  Willie  made  tunnels  and  little  rooms  under 
the  snow,  and  for  two  weeks,  while  the  snow  lasted,  Nora 
and  Tot  had  fine  times  in  the  little  snow  playhouses. 


XXIX 

MR.  BLUFFS  EXPERIENCES  OF  HOLIDAYS* 

OLIVER   BELL   BUNCE 

I  HATE  holidays,"  said  Bachelor  Bluff  to  me,  with 
some  little  irritation,  on  a  Christmas  a  few  years 
ago.  Then  he  paused  an  instant,  after  which  he  re- 
sumed :  "I  don't  mean  to  say  that  I  hate  to  see  people 
enjoying  themselves.  But  I  hate  holidays,  never- 
theless, because  to  me  they  are  always  the  saddest  and 
dreariest  days  of  the  year.  I  shudder  at  the  name  of 
holiday.  I  dread  the  approach  of  one,  and  thank 
heaven  when  it  is  over.  I  pass  through,  on  a  holiday, 
the  most  horrible  sensations,  the  bitterest  feelings, 
the  most  oppressive  melancholy;  in  fact,  I  am  not  my- 
self at  holiday-times." 

"Very  strange,"  I  ventured  to  interpose. 

"A  plague  on  it!"  said  he,  almost  with  violence. 
"I'm  not  inhuman.  I  don't  wish  anybody  harm. 
I'm  glad  people  can  enjoy  themselves.  But  I  hate 
holidays  all  the  same.  You  see,  this  is  the  reason: 
I  am  a  bachelor;  I  am  without  kin;  I  am  in  a  place  that 
did  not  know  me  at  birth.  And  so,  when  holidays 

'Reprinted  by  permission  of  Moffat,  Yard  &  Co,,  from  Christmas.  R.  H. 
ochauffler,  Editor. 

273 


274        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

come  around,  there  is  no  place  anywhere  for  me.  I 
have  friends,  of  course;  I  don't  think  I've  been  a  very 
sulky,  shut-in,  reticent  fellow;  and  there  is  many  a 
board  that  has  a  place  for  me  —  but  not  at  Christmas- 
tune.  At  Christmas,  the  dinner  is  a  family  gathering; 
and  I've  no  family.  There  is  such  a  gathering  of  kin- 
dred on  this  occasion,  such  a  reunion  of  family  folk,  that 
there  is  no  place  for  a  friend,  even  if  the  friend  be  liked. 
Christmas,  with  all  its  kindliness  and  charity  and 
good-will,  is,  after  all,  deuced  selfish.  Each  little 
set  gathers  within  its  own  circle;  and  people  like 
me,  with  no  particular  circle,  are  left  in  the  lurch. 
So  you  see,  on  the  day  of  all  the  days  in  the  year 
that  my  heart  pines  for  good  cheer,  I'm  without  an 
invitation. 

"Oh,  it's  because  I  pine  for  good  cheer,"  said  the 
bachelor,  sharply,  interrupting  my  attempt  to  speak, 
"that  I  hate  holidays.  If  I  were  an  infernally  selfish 
fellow,  I  wouldn't  hate  holidays.  I'd  go  off  and  have 
some  fun  all  to  myself,  somewhere  or  somehow.  But, 
you  see,  I  hate  to  be  hi  the  dark  when  all  the  rest  of 
the  world  is  in  light.  I  hate  holidays  because  I  ought 
to  be  merry  and  happy  on  holidays  and  can't. 

"Don't  tell  me,"  he  cried,  stopping  the  word  that 
was  on  my  lips;  "I  tell  you,  I  hate  holidays.  The 
shops  look  merry,  do  they,  with  their  bright  toys  and 
their  green  branches?  The  pantomime  is  crowded 
with  merry  hearts,  is  it?  The  circus  and  the  show  are 
brimful  of  fun  and  laughter,  are  they?  Well,  they  all 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        275 

make  me  miserable.  I  haven't  any  pretty-faced  girls 
or  bright-eyed  boys  to  take  to  the  circus  or  the  show, 
and  all  the  nice  girls  and  fine  boys  of  my  acquaintance 
have  their  uncles  or  then*  grand-dads  or  their  cousins 
to  take  them  to  those  places;  so,  if  I  go,  I  must  go 
alone.  But  I  don't  go.  I  can't  bear  the  chill  of  seeing 
everybody  happy,  and  knowing  myself  so  lonely  and 
desolate.  Confound  it,  sir,  I've  too  much  heart  to  be 
happy  under  such  circumstances !  I'm  too  humane,  sir ! 
And  the  result  is,  I  hate  holidays.  It's  miserable  to 
be  out,  and  yet  I  can't  stay  at  home,  for  I  get  thinking 
of  Christmases  past.  I  can't  read  —  the  shadow  of 
my  heart  makes  it  impossible.  I  can't  walk  —  for 
I  see  nothing  but  pictures  through  the  bright  windows, 
and  happy  groups  of  pleasure-seekers.  The  fact  is, 
I've  nothing  to  do  but  to  hate  holidays.  But  will  you 
not  dine  with  me?" 

Of  course,  I  had  to  plead  engagement  with  my  own 
family  circle,  and  I  couldn't  quite  invite  Mr.  Bluff 
home  that  day,  when  Cousin  Charles  and  his  wife, 
and  Sister  Susan  and  her  daughter,  and  three  of  my 
wife's  kin  had  come  hi  from  the  country,  all  to  make  a 
merry  Christmas  with  us.  I  felt  sorry,  but  it  was  quite 
impossible,  so  I  wished  Mr.  Bluff  a  "  Merry  Christmas/' 
and  hurried  homeward  through  the  cold  and  nipping 
air. 

I  did  not  meet  Bachelor  Bluff  again  until  a  week 
after  Christmas  of  the  next  year,  when  I  learned  some 
Strange  particulars  of  what  occurred  to  him  after  our, 


276        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

parting  on  the  occasion  just  described.  I  will  let 
Bachelor  Bluff  tell  his  adventure  for  himself: 

"I  went  to  church,"  said  he,  "and  was  as  sad  there 
as  everywhere  else.  Of  course,  the  evergreens  were 
pretty,  and  the  music  fine;  but  all  around  me  were 
happy  groups  of  people,  who  could  scarcely  keep  down 
merry  Christmas  long  enough  to  do  reverence  to  sacred 
Christmas.  And  nobody  was  alone  but  me.  Every 
happy  paterfamilias  hi  his  pew  tantalized  me,  and  the 
whole  atmosphere  of  the  place  seemed  so  much  better 
suited  to  every  one  else  than  me  that  I  came  away 
hating  holidays  worse  than  ever.  Then  I  went  to  the 
play,  and  sat  down  in  a  box  all  alone  by  myself.  Every- 
body seemed  on  the  best  of  terms  with  everybody  else, 
and  jokes  and  banter  passed  from  one  to  another  with 
the  most  good-natured  freedom.  Everybody  but  me 
was  in  a  little  group  of  friends.  I  was  the  only  person 
in  the  whole  theatre  that  was  alone.  And  then  there 
was  such  clapping  of  hands,  and  roars  of  laughter,  and 
shouts  of  delight  at  all  the  fun  going  on  upon  the  stage, 
all  of  which  was  rendered  doubly  enjoyable  by  every- 
body having  somebody  with  whom  to  share  and  inter- 
change the  pleasure,  that  my  loneliness  got  simply 
unbearable,  and  I  hated  holidays  infinitely  worse  than 
ever. 

"By  five  o'clock  the  holiday  became  so  intolerable 
that  I  said  I'd  go  and  get  a  dinner.  The  best  dinner 
the  town  could  provide.  A  sumptuous  dinner  for  one. 
A  dinner  with  many  courses,  with  wines  of  the  finest 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        277 

brands,  with  bright  lights,  with  a  cheerful  fire,  with 
every  condition  of  comfort  —  and  I'd  see  if  I  couldn't 
for  once  extract  a  little  pleasure  out  of  a  holiday ! 

"The  handsome  dining-room  at  the  club  looked 
bright,  but  it  was  empty.  Who  dines  at  this  club 
on  Christmas  but  lonely  bachelors?  There  was  a 
flutter  of  surprise  when  I  ordered  a  dinner,  and  the  few 
attendants  were,  no  doubt,  glad  of  something  to  break 
the  monotony  of  the  hours. 

"My  dinner  was  well  served.  The  spacious  room 
looked  lonely;  but  the  white,  snowy  cloths,  the  rich 
window  hangings,  the  warm  tints  of  the  walls,  the 
sparkle  of  the  fire  in  the  steel  grate,  gave  the  room  an 
air  of  elegance  and  cheerfulness;  and  then  the  table  at 
which  I  dined  was  close  to  the  window,  and  through 
the  partly  drawn  curtains  were  visible  centres  of  lonely, 
cold  streets,  with  bright  lights  from  many  a  window, 
it  is  true,  but  there  was  a  storm,  and  snow  began 
whirling  through  the  street.  I  let  my  imagination 
paint  the  streets  as  cold  and  dreary  as  it  would,  just 
to  extract  a  little  pleasure  by  way  of  contrast  from  the 
brilliant  room  of  which  I  was  apparently  sole  master. 

"I  dined  well,  and  recalled  in  fancy  old,  youthful 
Christmases,  and  pledged  mentally  many  an  old  friend, 
and  my  melancholy  was  mellowing  into  a  low,  sad 
undertone,  when,  just  as  I  was  raising  a  glass  of  wine 
to  my  lips,  I  was  startled  by  a  picture  at  the  window- 
pane.  It  was  a  pale,  wild,  haggard  face,  in  a  great 
cloud  of  black  hair,  pressed  against  the  glass.  As 


278        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

I  looked  it  vanished.  With  a  strange  thrill  at  my 
heart,  which  my  lips  mocked  with  a  derisive  sneer, 
I  finished  the  wine  and  set  down  the  glass.  It  was, 
of  course,  only  a  beggar-girl  that  had  crept  up  to  the 
window  and  stole  a  glance  at  the  bright  scene  within; 
but  still  the  pale  face  troubled  me  a  little,  and  threw 
a  fresh  shadow  on  my  heart.  I  filled  my  glass  once 
more  with  wine,  and  was  again  about  to  drink,  when 
the  face  reappeared  at  the  window.  It  was  so  white, 
so  thin,  with  eyes  so  large,  wild,  and  hungry-looking, 
and  the  black,  unkempt  hair,  into  which  the  snow 
had  drifted,  formed  so  strange  and  weird  a  frame  to 
the  picture,  that  I  was  fairly  startled.  Replacing, 
untasted,  the  liquor  on  the  table,  I  rose  and  went  close 
to  the  pane.  The  face  had  vanished,  and  I  could  see 
no  object  within  many  feet  of  the  window.  The  storm 
had  increased,  and  the  snow  was  driving  in  wild  gusts 
through  the  streets,  which  were  empty,  save  here  and 
there  a  hurrying  wayfarer.  The  whole  scene  was  cold, 
wild,  and  desolate,  and  I  could  not  repress  a  keen  thrill 
of  sympathy  for  the  child,  whoever  it  was,  whose  only 
Christmas  was  to  watch,  in  cold  and  storm,  the  rich 
banquet  ungratefully  enjoyed  by  the  lonely  bachelor. 
I  resumed  my  place  at  the  table;  but  the  dinner  was 
finished,  and  the  wine  had  no  further  relish.  I  was 
haunted  by  the  vision  at  the  window,  and  began,  with 
an  unreasonable  irritation  at  the  interruption,  to 
repeat  with  fresh  warmth  my  detestation  of  holidays. 
One  couldn't  even  dine  alone  on  a  holiday  with  any 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        279 

sort  of  comfort,  I  declared.  On  holidays  one  was 
tormented  by  too  much  pleasure  on  one  side,  and  too 
much  misery  on  the  other.  And  then,  I  said,  hunting 
for  justification  of  my  dislike  of  the  day,  'How  many 
other  people  are,  like  me,  made  miserable  by  seeing  the 
fullness  of  enjoyment  others  possess!' 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know, "  sarcastically  replied  the  bachelor 
to  a  comment  of  mine;  "of  course,  all  magnanimous, 
generous,  and  noble-souled  people  delight  in  seeing 
other  people  made  happy,  and  are  quite  content  to 
accept  this  vicarious  felicity.  But  I,  you  see,  and  this 
dear  little  girl " 

"Dear  little  girl? " 

"Oh,  I  forgot,"  said  Bachelor  Bluff,  blushing  a 
little,  in  spite  of  a  desperate  effort  not  to  do  so.  "I 
didn't  tell  you.  Well,  it  was  so  absurd!  I  kept 
thinking,  thinking  of  the  pale,  haggard,  lonely  little 
girl  on  the  cold  and  desolate  side  of  the  window-pane, 
and  the  over-fed,  discontented,  lonely  old  bachelor 
on  the  splendid  side  of  the  window-pane,  and  I  didn't 
get  much  happier  thinking  about  it,  I  can  assure 
you.  I  drank  glass  after  glass  of  the  wine  —  not  that 
I  enjoyed  its  flavour  any  more,  but  mechanically,  as 
it  were,  and  with  a  sort  of  hope  thereby  to  drown 
unpleasant  reminders.  I  tried  to  attribute  my  annoy- 
ance in  the  matter  to  holidays,  and  so  denounced  them 
more  vehemently  than  ever.  I  rose  once  in  a  while  and 
went  to  the  window,  but  could  see  no  one  to  whom  the 
pale  face  could  have  belonged. 


28o        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"At  last,  in  no  very  amiable  mood,  I  got  up,  put  on 
my  wrappers,  and  went  out;  and  the  first  thing  I  did 
was  to  run  against  a  small  figure  crouching  in  the  door- 
way. A  face  looked  up  quickly  at  the  rough  encounter, 
and  I  saw  the  pale  features  of  the  window-pane.  I 
was  very  irritated  and  angry,  and  spoke  harshly;  and 
then,  all  at  once,  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  how  it  hap- 
pened, but  it  flashed  upon  me  that  I,  of  all  men,  had 
no  right  to  utter  a  harsh  word  to  one  oppressed  with 
so  wretched  a  Christmas  as  this  poor  creature  was. 
I  couldn't  say  another  word,  but  began  feeling  in  my 
pocket  for  some  money,  and  then  I  asked  a  question 
or  two,  and  then  I  don't  quite  know  how  it  came 
about  —  isn't  it  very  warm  here?"  exclaimed  Bachelor 
Bluff,  rising  and  walking  about,  and  wiping  the 
perspiration  from  his  brow. 

"Well,  you  see,"  he  resumed  nervously,  "it  was  very 
absurd,  but  I  did  believe  the  girl's  story  —  the  old 
story,  you  know,  of  privation  and  suffering,  and  just 
thought  I'd  go  home  with  the  brat  and  see  if  what  she 
said  was  all  true.  And  then  I  remembered  that  all 
the  shops  were  closed,  and  not  a  purchase  could  be 
made.  I  went  back  and  persuaded  the  steward  to 
put  up  for  me  a  hamper  of  provisions,  which  the  half- 
wild  little  youngster  helped  me  carry  through  the 
snow,  dancing  with  delight  all  the  way.  And  isn't 
this  enough?" 

"Not  a  bit,  Mr.  Bluff.  I  must  h?ve  the  whole 
story." 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        284 

"I  declare,"  said  Bachelor  Bluff,  "there's  no  whole 
story  to  tell.  A  widow  with  children  in  great  need, 
that  was  what  I  found;  and  they  had  a  feast  that 
night,  and  a  little  money  to  buy  them  a  load  of  wood 
and  a  garment  or  two  the  next  day;  and  they  were  all 
so  bright,  and  so  merry,  and  so  thankful,  and  so  good, 
that,  when  I  got  home  that  night,  I  was  mightily 
amazed  that,  instead  of  going  to  bed  sour  at  holidays, 
I  was  in  a  state  of  great  contentment  in  regard  to 
holidays.  In  fact,  I  was  really  merry.  I  whistled. 
I  sang.  I  do  believe  I  cut  a  caper.  The  poor  wretches 
I  had  left  had  been  so  merry  over  their  unlooked-for 
Christmas  banquet  that  their  spirits  infected  mine. 

"And  then  I  got  thinking  again.  Of  course,  holi- 
days had  been  miserable  to  me,  I  said.  What  right 
had  a  well-to-do,  lonely  old  bachelor  hovering  wistfully 
in  the  vicinity  of  happy  circles,  when  all  about  there 
vere  so  many  people  as  lonely  as  he,  and  yet  oppressed 
with  want?  'Good  gracious!'  I  exclaimed,  'to  think 
of  a  man  complaining  of  loneliness  with  thousands 
of  wretches  yearning  for  his  help  and  comfort,  with 
endless  opportunities  for  work  and  company,  with 
hundreds  of  pleasant  and  delightful  things  to  do. 
Just  to  think  of  it!  It  put  me  in  a  great  fury  at  my- 
self to  think  of  it.  I  tried  pretty  hard  to  escape  from 
myself  and  began  inventing  excuses  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing,  but  I  rigidly  forced  myself  to  look  squarely 
at  my  own  conduct.  And  then  I  reconciled  my  con- 
science  by  declaring  that,  if  ever  after  that  day  I  hated 


282        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

a  holiday  again,  might  my  holidays  end  at  once  and 
forever! 

"Did  I  go  and  see  my  proteges  again?  What  a 
question!  Why  —  well,  no  matter.  If  the  widow 
is  comfortable  now,  it  is  because  she  has  found  a  way 
to  earn  without  difficulty  enough  for  her  few  wants. 
That's  no  fault  of  mine.  I  would  have  done  more 
for  her,  but  she  wouldn't  let  me.  But  just  let  me  tell 
you  about  New  Year's  —  the  New- Year's  day  that 
followed  the  Christmas  I've  been  describing.  It  was 
lucky  for  me  there  was  another  holiday  only  a  week 
off.  Bless  you!  I  had  so  much  to  do  that  day  1 
was  completely  bewildered,  and  the  hours  weren't 
half  long  enough.  I  did  make  a  few  social  calls 
but  then  I  hurried  them  over;  and  then  hastened  to 
my  little  girl,  whose  face  had  already  caught  a  touch 
of  colour;  and  she,  looking  quite  handsome  in  her  new 
frock  and  her  ribbons,  took  me  to  other  poor  folk,  and, 
—  well,  that's  about  the  whole  story. 

"Oh,  as  to  the  next  Christmas.  Well,  I  didn't 
dine  alone,  as  you  may  guess.  It  was  up  three  stairs, 
that's  true,  and  there  was  none  of  that  elegance  that 
marked  the  dinner  of  the  year  before;  but  it  was  merry > 
and  happy,  and  bright;  it  was  a  generous,  honest, 
hearty  Christmas  dinner,  that  it  was,  although  I  do 
wish  the  widow  hadn't  talked  so  much  about  the 
mysterious  way  a  turkey  had  been  left  at  her  door  the 
night  before.  And  Molly  — that's  the  little  girl  — 
and  I  had  a  rousing  appetite.  We  went  to  church 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        283 

early;  then  we  had  been  down  to  the  Five  Points  to 
carry  the  poor  outcasts  there  something  for  their 
Christmas  dinner;  in  fact,  we  had  done  wonders  of 
work,  and  Molly  was  in  high  spirits,  and  so  the  Christ- 
mas dinner  was  a  great  success. 

"Dear  me,  sir,  no!  Just  as  you  say.  Holidays 
are  not  in  the  least  wearisome  any  more.  Plague  on  it ! 
When  a  man  tells  me  now  that  he  hates  holidays,  I  find 
myself  getting  very  wroth.  I  pin  him  by  the  button- 
hole at  once,  and  tell  him  my  experience.  The 
fact  is,  if  I  were  at  dinner  on  a  holiday,  and  anybody 
should  ask  me  for  a  sentiment,  I  should  say,  'God 
bless  all  holidays !'" 


XXX 

MASTER  SANDY'S  SNAPDRAGON* 

ELBRIDGE    S.   BROOKS 

^ INHERE  was  just  enough  of  December  in  the  air 
A  and  of  May  in  the  sky  to  make  the  Yuletide  of 
the  year  of  grace  1611  a  time  of  pleasure  and  delight 
to  every  boy  and  girl  in  "Merrie  England"  from  the 
princely  children  in  stately  Whitehall  to  the  humblest 
pot-boy  and  scullery-girl  hi  the  hall  of  the  country 
squire. 

And  in  the  palace  at  Whitehall  even  the  cares  of  state 
gave  place  to  the  sports  of  this  happy  season.  For 
that  "Most  High  and  Mighty  Prince  James,  by  the 
Grace  of  God  King  of  Great  Britain,  France,  and  Ire- 
land "  —  as  you  will  find  him  styled  in  your  copy  of 
the  Old  Version,  or  what  is  known  as  "King  James' 
Bible"  —  loved  the  Christmas  festivities,  cranky, 
crabbed,  and  crusty  though  he  was.  And  this  year  he 
felt  especially  gracious.  For  now,  first  since  the  terror 
of  the  Guy  Fawkes  plot  which  had  come  to  naught 
full  seven  years  before,  did  the  timid  king  feel  secure 
on  his  throne;  the  translation  of  the  Bible,  on  which  so 
many  learned  men  had  been  for  years  engaged,  had 

*This  story  was  first  published  in  Wide  Awake,  vol.  26. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        285 

just  been  issued  from  the  press  of  Master  Robert JBaker; 
and,  lastly,  much  profit  was  coming  into  the  royal 
treasury  from  the  new  lands  in  the  Indies  and  across 
the  sea. 

So  it  was  to  be  a  Merry  Christmas  in  the  palace  at 
Whitehall.  Great  were  the  preparations  for  its  cele- 
bration, and  the  Lord  Henry,  the  handsome,  wise  and 
popular  young  Prince  of  Wales,  whom  men  hoped  some 
day  to  hail  as  King  Henry  of  England,  was  to  take  part 
in  a  jolly  Christmas  mask,  in  which,  too,  even  the 
little  Prince  Charles  was  to  perform  for  the  edification 
of  the  court  when  the  mask  should  be  shown  in  the  new 
and  gorgeous  banqueting  hall  of  the  palace. 

And  to-night  it  was  Christmas  Eve.  The  Little 
Prince  Charles  and  the  Princess  Elizabeth  could 
scarcely  wait  for  the  morrow,  so  impatient  were  they 
to  see  all  the  grand  devisings  that  were  in  store  for 
them.  So  good  Master  Sandy,  under-tutor  to  the 
Prince,  proposed  to  wise  Archie  Armstrong,  the  King's 
jester,  that  they  play  at  snapdragon  for  the  children 
in  the  royal  nursery. 

The  Prince  and  Princess  clamoured  for  the  promised 
game  at  once,  and  soon  the  flicker  from  the  flaming  bow 
lighted  up  the  darkened  nursery  as,  around  the  witch- 
like  caldron,  they  watched  their  opportunity  to  snatch 
the  lucky  raisin.  The  room  rang  so  loudly  with  fun 
and  laughter  that  even  the  King  himself,  big  of  head 
and  rickety  of  legs,  shambled  in  good-humouredly  to 
join  in  the  sport  that  was  giving  so  much  pleasure  to  the 


286        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

royal  boy  he  so  dearly  loved,  and  whom  he  always 
called"  Baby  Charles." 

But  what  was  snapdragon,  you  ask?  A  simple 
enough  game,  but  dear  for  many  and  many  a  year  to 
English  children.  A  broad  and  shallow  bowl  or  dish 
half -filled  with  blazing  brandy,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
lay  numerous  toothsome  raisins  —  a  rare  tidbit  hi  those 
days  —  and  one  of  these,  pierced  with  a  gold  button, 
was  known  as  the  "  lucky  raisin. "  Then,  as  the  flaming 
brandy  flickered  and  darted  from  the  yawning  bowl, 
even  as  did  the  flaming  poison  tongues  of  the  cruel 
dragon  that  St.  George  of  England  conquered  so 
valiantly,  each  one  of  the  revellers  sought  to  snatch 
a  raisin  from  the  burning  bowl  without  singe  or  scar. 
And  he  who  drew  out  the  lucky  raisin  was  winner  and 
champion,  and  could  claim  a  boon  or  reward  for  his 
superior  skill.  Rather  a  dangerous  game,  perhaps 
it  seems,  but  folks  were  rough  players  in  those  old  days 
and  laughed  at  a  burn  or  a  bruise,  taking  them  as  part 
of  the  fun. 

So  around  Master  Sandy's  Snapdragon  danced  the 
royal  children,  and  even  the  King  himself  condescended 
to  dip  his  royal  hands  in  the  flames,  while  Archie 
Armstrong  the  jester  cried  out:  "Now  fair  and  softly, 
brother  Jamie,  fair  and  softly,  man.  There's  ne'er 
a  plum  in  all  that  plucking  so  worth  the  burning  as 
there  was  hi  Signor  Guy  Fawkes'  snapdragon  when 
ye  proved  not  to  be  his  lucky  raisin."  For  King's 
jesters  were  privileged  characters  in  the  old  days,  and 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        287 

jolly  Archie  Armstrong  could  joke  with  the  King  on  this 
Guy  Fawkes  scare  as  none  other  dared. 

And  still  no  one  brought  out  the  lucky  raisin,  though 
the  Princess  Elizabeth's  fair  arm  was  scorched  and  good 
Master  Sandy's  peaked  beard  was  singed,  and  my  Lord 
Montacute  had  dropped  his  signet  ring  in  the  fiery 
dragon's  mouth,  and  even  His  Gracious  Majesty  the 
King  was  nursing  one  of  his  royal  fingers. 

But  just  as  through  the  parted  arras  came  young 
Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  little  Prince  Charles  gave  a 
boyish  shout  of  triumph. 

"Hey,  huzzoy!"  he  cried,  "'tis  mine,  'tis  mine! 
Look,  Archie;  see,  dear  dad;  I  have  the  lucky  raisin! 
A  boon,  good  folk;  a  boon  for  me!"  And  the  excited 
lad  held  aloft  the  lucky  raisin  in  which  gleamed  the 
golden  button. 

"Rarely  caught,  young  York,"  cried  Prince  Henry, 
clapping  his  hands  in  applause.  "I  came  in  right  in 
good  time,  did  I  not,  to  give  you  luck,  little  brother? 
And  now,  lad,  what  is  the  boon  to  be?  " 

And  King  James,  greatly  pleased  at  whatever  his 
dear  "  Baby  Charles  "  said  or  did,  echoed  his  eldest  son's 
question.  "Ay  lad,  'twas  a  rare  good  dip;  so  crave 
your  boon.  What  does  my  bonny  boy  desire?  " 

But  the  boy  hesitated.  What  was  there  that  a  royal 
prince,  indulged  as  was  he,  could  wish  for  or  desire? 
He  really  could  think  of  nothing,  and  crossing  quickly 
to  his  elder  brother,  whom,  boy-fashion,  he  adored,  he 
whispered,  "Ud's  fish,  Hal,  what  do  I  want?" , 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

Prince  Henry  placed  his  hand  upon  his  brother's 
shoulder  and  looked  smilingly  into  his  questioning 
eyes,  and  all  within  the  room  glanced  for  a  moment 
at  the  two  lads  standing  thus. 

And  they  were  well  worth  looking  at.  Prince  Henry 
of  Wales,  tall,  comely,  open-faced,  and  well-built,  a 
noble  lad  of  eighteen  who  called  to  men's  minds,  so 
"rare  Ben  Jonson"  says,  the  memory  of  the  hero  of 
Agincourt,  that  other 

thunderbolt  of  war, 

Harry  the  Fifth,  to  whom  in  face  you  are 
So  like,  as  Fate  would  have  you  so  in  worth; 

Prince  Charles,  royal  Duke  of  York,  Knight  of  the 
Garter  and  of  the  Bath,  fair  in  face  and  form,  an  active, 
manly,  daring  boy  of  eleven  —  the  princely  brothers 
made  so  fair  a  sight  that  the  King,  jealous  and  sus- 
spicious  of  Prince  Henry's  popularity  though  he  was, 
looked  now  upon  them  both  with  loving  eyes.  But 
how  those  loving  eyes  would  have  grown  dim  wth  tears 
could  this  fickle,  selfish,  yet  indulgent  father  have 
foreseen  the  sad  and  bitter  fates  of  both  his  handsome 
boys. 

But,  fortunately,  such  foreknowledge  is  not  for 
fathers  or  mothers,  whatever  their  rank  or  station,  and 
King  James's  only  thought  was  one  of  pride  hi  the 
two  brave  lads  now  whispering  together  in  secret  con- 
fidence. And  into  this  he  speedily  broke. 

"Come,  come,  Baby  Charles,"  he  cried,  "stand  no 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        289 

more  parleying,  but  out  and  over  with  the  boon  ye 
crave  as  guerdon  for  your  lucky  plum.  Ud's  fish,  lad, 
out  with  it;  we'd  get  it  for  ye  though  it  did  rain  jeddert 
staves  here  in  Whitehall. " 

"So  please  your  Grace,"  said  the  little  Prince, 
bowing  low  with  true  courtier-like  grace  and  suavity, 
"I  will,  with  your  permission,  crave  niy  boon  as  a 
Christmas  favor  at  wassail  time  in  to-morrow's 
revels. " 

And  then  he  passed  from  the  chamber  arm-in-arm 
with  his  elder  brother,  while  the  King,  chuckling  greatly 
over  the  lad's  show  of  courtliness  and  ceremony,  went 
into  a  learned  discussion  with  my  lord  of  Montacute 
and  Master  Sandy  as  to  the  origin  of  the  snapdragon, 
which  he,  with  his  customary  assumption  of  deep  learn- 
ing, declared  was  "but  a  modern  paraphrase,  my  lord, 
of  the  fable  which  telleth  how  Dan  Hercules  did  kill 
the  flaming  dragon  of  Hesperia  and  did  then,  with 
the  apple  of  that  famous  orchard,  make  a  fiery  dish 
of  burning  apple  brandy  which  he  did  name  'snap- 
dragon.'" 

For  King  James  VI  of  Scotland  and  I  of  England 
was,  you  see,  something  too  much  of  what  men  call  a 
pendant. 

Christmas  morning  rose  bright  and  glorious.  A 
light  hoarfrost  whitened  the  ground  and  the  keen  De- 
cember air  nipped  the  noses  as  it  hurried  the  song-notes 
of  the  score  of  little  waifs  who,  gathered  beneath  the 
windows  of  the  big  palace,  sung  for  the  happy  awaking 


290        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

of  the  young  Prince  Charles  their  Christmas  carol 
their  Christmas  noel: 

A  child  this  day  is  born, 

A  child  of  great  renown; 
Most  worthy  of  a  sceptre, 

A  sceptre  and  a  crown. 

Noel,  noel,  noel, 

Nosl  sing  we  may 
Because  the  King  of  all  Kings 

Was  born  this  blessed  day. 

These  tidings  shepherds  heard 

In  field  watching  their  fold, 
Were  by  an  angel  unto  them 

At  night  revealed  and  told. 

Noel,  noel,  noel, 

Noel  sing  we  may 
Because  the  King  of  all  Kings 

Was  born  this  blessed  day. 

He  brought  unto  them  tidings 

Of  gladness  and  of  mirth, 
Which  cometh  to  all  people  by 

This  holy  infant's  birth. 

Noel,  noel,  noel, 

Noel  sing  we  may 
Because  the  King  of  all  Kings 

Was  born  this  blessed  day. 

The  "blessed  day"  wore  on.  Gifts  and  sports  filled 
the  happy  hours.  In  the  royal  banqueting  hall  the 
Christmas  dinner  was  royally  set  and  served,  and  King 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

and  Queen  and  Princes,  with  attendant  nobles  and 
holiday  guests,  partook  of  the  strong  dishes  of  those 
old  days  of  hearty  appetites. 

"A  shield  of  brawn  with  mustard,  boyl'd  capon,  a 
chine  of  beef  roasted,  a  neat's  tongue  roasted,  a  pig 
roasted,  chewets  baked,  goose,  swan  and  turkey 
roasted,  a  haunch  of  venison  roasted,  a  pasty  of  venison, 
a  kid  stuffed  with  pudding,  an  olive-pye,  capons  and 
dowsets,  sallats  and  fricases"  —  all  these  and  much 
:nore,  with  strong  beer  and  spiced  ale  to  wash  the 
dinner  down,  crowned  the  royal  board,  while  the  great 
boar's  head  and  the  Christmas  pie,  borne  in  with  great 
parade,  were  placed  on  the  table  joyously  decked  with 
holly  and  rosemary  and  bay.  It  was  a  great  ceremony 
—  this  bringing  hi  of  the  boar's  head.  First  came  an 
attendant,  so  the  old  record  tells  us, 

"attyr'd  in  a  horseman's  coat  with  a  Boares-speare 
in  his  hande;  next  to  him  another  huntsman  in  greene, 
with  a  bloody  faulchion  drawne;  next  to  him  two  pages 
in  tafatye  sarcenet,  each  of  them  with  a  messe  of  mus- 
tard; next  to  whom  came  hee  that  carried  the  Boa  res- 
head,  crosst  with  a  greene  silk  scarf e,  by  which  hunge 
the  empty  scabbard  of  the  faulchion  which  was  car- 
ried before  him." 

After  the  dinner  —  the  boar's  head  having  been 
wrestled  for  by  some  of  the  royal  yeomen  —  came  the 
wassail  or  health-drinking.  Then  the  King  said: 

"And  now,  Baby  Charles,  let  us  hear  the  boon  ye 
were  to  crave  of  us  at  wassail  as  the  guerdon  for  the 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

holder  of  the  lucky  raisin  in  Master  Sandy's  snap- 
dragon. " 

And  the  little  eleven-year-old  Prince  stood  up  before 
the  company  in  all  his  brave  attire,  glanced  at  his 
brother  Prince  Henry,  and  then  facing  the  King  said 
boldly: 

"I  pray  you,  my  father  and  my  liege,  grant  me  as  the 
boon  I  ask  —  the  freeing  of  Walter  Raleigh. " 

At  this  altogether  startling  and  unlooked-for  request, 
amazement  and  consternation  appeared  on  the  faces 
around  the  royal  banqueting  board,  and  the  King  put 
down  his  untasted  tankard  of  spiced  ale,  while  surprise, 
doubt  and  anger  quickly  crossed  the  royal  face.  For 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  the  favourite  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
the  lord-proprietor  and  colonizer  of  the  American 
colonies,  and  the  sworn  foe  to  Spain,  had  been  now 
close  prisoner  in  the  Tower  for  more  than  nine 
years,  hated  and  yet  dreaded  by  this  fickle  King 
James,  who  dared  not  put  him  to  death  for  fear  of 
the  people  to  whom  the  name  and  valour  of  Raleigh 
were  dear. 

"Hoot,  chiel!"  cried  the  King  at  length,  splutter- 
ing wrathfully  in  the  broadest  of  his  native  Scotch, 
as  was  his  habit  when  angered  or  surprised.  "Ye 
reckless  fou,  wha  hae  put  ye  to  sic  a  jackanape  trick? 
Dinna  ye  ken  that  sic  a  boon  is  nae  for  a  laddie  like 
you  to  meddle  wi'?  Wha  hae  put  ye  to't,  I  say?  " 

But  ere  the  young  Prince  could  reply,  the  stately 
and  solemn-faced  ambassador  of  Spain,  the  Count  of 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        293 

Gondemar,  arose  in  the  place  of  honour  he  filled  as  a 
guest  of  the  King. 

"My  Lord  King,"  he  said,  "I  beg  your  majesty  to 
bear  hi  memory  your  pledge  to  my  gracious  master 
King  Philip  of  Spain,  that  naught  save  grave  cause 
should  lead  you  to  liberate  from  just  durance  that  arch 
enemy  of  Spam,  the  Lord  Raleigh." 

"But  you  did  promise  me,  my  lord,"  said  Prince 
Charles,  hastily,  "and  you  have  told  me  that  the  royal 
pledge  is  not  to  be  lightly  broken. " 

"  Ma  certie,  lad, "  said  King  James, " ye  maunay  learn 
that  there  is  nae  rule  wi'out  its  aicciptions. "  And 
then  he  added,  "A  pledge  to  a  boy  hi  play,  like  to  ours 
of  yester-eve,  Baby  Charles,  is  not  to  be  kept  when 
matters  of  state  conflict. "  Then  turning  to  the  Spanish 
ambassador,  he  said:  "Rest  content,  my  lord  count. 
This  recreant  Raleigh  shall  not  yet  be  loosed. " 

"But,  my  liege,"  still  persisted  the  boy  prince,  "my 
brother  Hal  did  say " 

The  wrath  of  the  King  burst  out  afresh. 

"Ay,  said  you  so?  Brother  Hal,  indeed!"  he  cried. 
"I  thought  the  wind  blew  from  that  quarter,"  and  he 
angrily  faced  his  eldest  son.  "So,  sirrah;  'twas  you 
that  did  urge  this  foolish  boy  to  work  your  traitorous 
purpose  in  such  coward  guise!" 

"My  liege,"  said  Prince  Henry,  rising  in  his  place, 
"traitor  and  coward  are  words  I  may  not  calmly  hear 
even  from  my  father  and  my  king.  You  wrong  me 
foully  when  you  use  them  thus.  For  though  I  do  be* 


294        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

think  me  that  the  Tower  is  but  a  sorry  cage  in  which  to 
keep  so  grandly  plumed  a  bird  as  my  Lord  of  Raleigh, 
I  did  but  seek " 

"Ay,  you  did  but  seek  to  curry  favour  with  the  craven 
crowd,"  burst  out  the  now  thoroughly  angry  King, 
always  jealous  of  the  popularity  of  this  brave  young 
Prince  of  Wales.  "And  am  I,  sirrah,  to  be  badgered 
and  browbeaten  in  my  own  palace  by  such  a  thriftless 
!ie'er-do-weel  as  you,  ungrateful  boy,  who  seekest 
to  gain  preference  with  the  people  in  this  realm  before 
your  liege  lord  the  King?  Quit  my  presence,  sirrah^ 
and  that  instanter,  ere  that  I  do  send  you  to  spend  your 
Christmas  where  your  great-grandfather,  King  Henry, 
bade  his  astrologer  spend  his  —  in  the  Tower,  there  tc 
keep  company  with  your  fitting  comrade.  Raleigh, 
the  traitor!" 

Without  a  word  hi  reply  to  this  outburst,  with  a  son's 
submission,  but  with  a  royal  dignity,  Prince  Henry  bent 
his  head  before  his  father's  decree  and  withdrew  from 
the  table,  followed  by  the  gentlemen  of  his  household. 
But  ere  he  could  reach  the  arrased  doorway,  Prince 
Charles  sprang  to  his  side  and  cried,  valiantly:  "Nay 
then,  if  he  goes  so  do  I !  'Twas  surely  but  a  Christmas 
joke  and  of  my  own  devising.  Spoil  not  our  revel,  my 
gracious  liege  and  father,  on  this  of  all  the  year's  red- 
letter  days,  by  turning  my  thoughtless  frolic  into  such 
bitter  threatening.  I  did  but  seek  to  test  the  worth 
of  Master  Sandy's  lucky  raisin  by  asking  for  as  wildly 
great  a  boon  as  might  be  thought  upon.  Brother  Hal 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        295 

too,  did  but  give  me  his  advising  in  joke  even  as  I  did 
seek  it.  None  here,  my  royal  father,  would  brave  your 
sovereign  displeasure  by  any  unknightly  or  unloyal 
scheme. " 

The  gentle  and  dignified  words  of  the  young  prince  — 
for  Charles  Stuart,  though  despicable  as  a  king,  was 
ever  loving  and  loyal  as  a  friend  —  were  as  oil  upon  the 
troubled  waters.  The  ruffled  temper  of  the  ambassador 
of  Spain  —  who  hi  after  years  really  did  work  Raleigh's 
downfall  and  death  —  gave  place  to  courtly  bows,  and 
the  King's  quick  anger  melted  away  before  the  dearly 
loved  voice  of  his  favourite  son. 

"Nay,  resume  your  place,  son  Hal,"  he  said,  "and 
you,  gentlemen  all,  resume  your  seats,  I  pray.  I  too 
did  but  jest  as  did  Baby  Charles  here  —  a  sad  young 
wag,  I  fear  me,  is  this  same  young  Prince. " 

But  as,  after  the  wassail,  came  the  Christmas  mask, 
in  which  both  Princes  bore  their  parts,  Prince  Charles 
said  to  Archie  Armstrong,  the  King's  jester: 

"Faith,  good  Archie;  now  is  Master  Sandy's  snap- 
dragon but  a  false  beast  withal,  and  his  lucky  raisin  is 
but  an  evil  fruit  that  pays  not  for  the  plucking. " 

And  wise  old  Archie  only  wagged  his  head  and 
answered,  "Odd  zooks,  Cousin  Charlie,  Christmas 
raisins  are  not  the  only  fruit  that  burns  the  fingers  in 
the  plucking,  and  mayhap  you  too  may  live  to  know 
that  a  mettlesome  horse  never  stumbleth  but  when 
he  is  reined. " 

Poor  "Cousin  Charlie"  did  not  then  understand  the 


996        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

full  meaning  of  the  wise  old  jester's  words,  but  he  did 
live  to  learn  their  full  intent.  For  when,  in  after  years, 
his  people  sought  to  curb  his  tyrannies  with  a  revolt 
that  ended  only  with  his  death  upon  the  scaffold, 
outside  this  very  banqueting  house  at  Whitehall, 
Charles  Stuart  learned  all  too  late  that  a  "  mettlesome 
horse"  needed  sometimes  to  be  "reined,"  and  heard, 
too  late  as  well,  the  stern  declaration  of  the  Commons 
of  England  that  "no  chief  officer  might  presume  for 
the  future  to  contrive  the  enslaving  and  destruction 
of  the  nation  with  impunity. " 

But  though  many  a  merry  and  many  a  happy  day 
had  the  young  Prince  Charles  before  the  dark  tragedy 
of  his  sad  and  sorry  manhood,  he  lost  all  faith  in  lucky 
raisins.  Not  for  three  years  did  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  — 
whom  both  the  Princes  secretly  admired  —  obtain 
release  from  the  Tower,  and  ere  three  more  years  were 
past  his  head  fell  as  a  forfeit  to  the  stern  demands  of 
Spain.  And  Prince  Charles  often  declared  that 
naught  indeed  could  come  from  meddling  with  luck 
saving  burnt  fingers,  "even,"  he  said,  "as  came  to  me 
that  profitless  night  when  I  sought  a  boon  for  snatching 
the  lucky  raisin  from  good  Master  Sandy's  Christmas 
snapdragon. " 


XXXI 
A   CHRISTMAS   FAIRY* 

JOHN   STRANGE   WINTER 

IT  was  getting  very  near  to  Christmas  time,  and 
all  the  boys  at  Miss  Ware's  school  were  talking 
about  going  home  for  the  holidays. 

"  I  shall  go  to  the  Christmas  festival,"  said  Bertie 
Fellows, "  and  my  mother  will  have  a  party,  and  my 
Aunt  will  give  another.  Oh!  I  shall  have  a  splendid 
time  at  home." 

"My  Uncle  Bob  is  going  to  give  me  a  pair  of 
skates/ '  remarked  Harry  Wadham. 

"  My  father  is  going  to  give  me  a  bicycle,"  put  hi 
George  Alderson. 

"  Will  you  bring  it  back  to  school  with  you  ?"  asked 
Harry. 

"  Oh!  yes,  if  Miss  Ware  doesn't  say  no." 

"  Well,  Tom,"  cried  Bertie,  "  where  are  you  going 
to  spend  your  holidays?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  stay  here,"  answered  Tom  in  a  very 
forlorn  voice. 

"  Here  —  at  school  —  oh,  dear  !  Why  can't  you  go 
home?" 

'Reprinted  with  the  permission  of  the  Henry  Alt  emus  Company. 


298        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"  I  can't  go  home  to  India/'  answered  Tom. 

"Nobody  said  you  could.  But  haven't  you  any 
relatives  anywhere  ?" 

Tom  shook  his  head.    "  Only  in  India,"  he  said  sadly. 

"Poor  fellow!  That's  hard  luck  for  you.  I'll 
tell  you  what  it  is,  boys,  if  I  couldn't  go  home  for  the 
holidays,  especially  at  Christmas  —  I  think  I  would 
just  sit  down  and  die." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  wouldn't,"  said  Tom.  "  You  would  get 
ever  so  homesick,  but  you  wouldn't  die.  You  would  just 
get  through  somehow,  and  hope  something  would  hap- 
pen before  next  year,  or  that  some  kind  fairy  would " 

"There  are  no  fairies  nowadays,"  said  Bertie. 
"  See  here,  Tom,  I'll  write  and  ask  my  mother  to  invite 
you  to  go  home  with  me  for  the  holidays." 

"Will  you  really?" 

"Yes,  I  will.    And  if  she  says  yes,  we  shall  have  such 
a  splendid   time.    We  live  in  London,  you  know, 
and  have  lots  of  parties  and  fun." 
./'Perhaps  she  will  say  no?"  suggested  poor  little  Tom. 

"My  mother  isn't  the  kind  that  says  no,"  Bertie 
declared  loudly. 

In  a  few  days'  time  a  letter  arrived  from  Bertie's 
mother.  The  boy  opened  it  eagerly,  It  said: 

MY  OWN  DEAR  BERTIE: 

I  am  very  sorry  to  tell  you  that  little  Alice  is  ill  with  scarlet 
fever.  And  so  you  cannot  come  for  your  holidays.  I  would 
have  been  glad  to  have  you  bring  your  little  friend  with  yov 
if  all  had  been  well  here. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        299 

Your  father  and  I  have  decided  that  the  best  thing  that  you 
can  do  is  to  stay  at  Miss  Ware's.  We  shall  send  your  Christ- 
mas to  you  as  well  as  we  can. 

It  will  not  be  like  coming  home,  but  I  am  sure  you  will  try 
to  be  happy,  and  make  me  feel  that  you  are  helping  me  in  this 
sad  time. 

Dear  little  Alice  is  very  ill,  very  ill  indeed.  Tell  Tom  that  I 
am  sending  you  a  box  for  both  of  you,  with  two  of  everything. 
And  tell  him  that  it  makes  me  so  much  happier  to  know  that 
you  will  not  be  alone. 

YOUR  OWN  MOTHER. 

When  Bertie  Fellows  received  this  letter,  which 
ended  all  his  Christmas  hopes  and  joys,  he  hid  his 
face  upon  his  desk  and  sobbed  aloud.  The  lonely 
boy  from  India,  who  sat  next  to  him,  tried  to  comfort 
his  friend  in  every  way  he  could  think  of.  He  patted 
his  shoulder  and  whispered  many  kind  words  to  him. 

At  last  Bertie  put  the  letter  into  Tom's  hands. 
"Read  it,"  he  sobbed. 

So  then  Tom  understood  the  cause  of  Bertie's  grief. 
"Don't  fret  over  it,"  he  said  at  last.  "It  might  be 
worse.  Why,  your  father  and  mother  might  be  thou- 
sands of  miles  away,  like  mine  are.  When  Alice  is 
better,  you  will  be  able  to  go  home.  And  it  will  help 
your  mother  if  she  thinks  you  are  almost  as  happy 
as  if  you  could  go  now." 

Soon  Miss  Ware  came  to  tell  Bertie  how  sorry  she 
was  for  him. 

"After  all,"  said  she,  smiling  down  on  the  two  boys, 
"it  is  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good.  Poor  Tom 


300        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

has  been  expecting  to  spend  his  holidays  alone,  and  now 
he  will  have  a  friend  with  him.  Try  to  look  on  the 
bright  side,  Bertie,  and  to  remember  how  much  worse 
it  would  have  been  if  there  had  been  no  boy  to  stay 
with  you." 

"I  can't  help  being  disappointed,  Miss  Ware," 
said  Bertie,  his  eyes  filling  with  tears. 

"No;  you  would  be  a  strange  boy  if  you  were  not. 
But  I  want  you  to  try-to  think  of  your  poor  mother, 
and  write  her  as  cheerfully  as  you  can." 

"Yes,"  answered  Bertie;  but  his  heart  was  too  full 
to  say  more. 

The  last  day  of  the  term  came,  and  one  by  one,  or 
two  by  two,  the  boys  went  away,  until  only  Bertie 
and  Tom  were  left  in  the  great  house.  It  had  never 
seemed  so  large  to  either  of  them  before. 

"It's  miserable,"  groaned  poor  Bertie,  as  they 
strolled  into  the  schoolroom.  "Just  think  if  we  were 
on  our  way  home  now  —  how  different." 

"Just  think  if  I  had  been  left  here  by  myself," 
said  Tom. 

"Yes,"  said  Bertie,  "but  you  know  when  one  wants 
to  go  home  he  never  thinks  of  the  boys  that  have  no 
home  to  go  to." 

The  evening  passed,  and  the  two  boys  went  to  bed. 
They  told  stories  to  each  other  for  a  long  time  before 
they  could  go  to  sleep.  That  night  they  dreamed  of 
their  homes,  and  felt  very  lonely.  Yet  each  tried 
to  be  brave,  and  so  another  day  began. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        301 

This  was  the  day  before  Christmas.  Quite  early 
in  the  morning  came  the  great  box  of  which  Bertie's 
mother  had  spoken  in  her  letter.  Then,  just  as 
dinner  had  come  to  an  end,  there  was  a  peal  a* 
the  bell,  and  a  voice  was  heard  asking  for  Tom 
Egerton. 

Tom  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  flew  to  greet  a  tall, 
handsome  lady,  crying,  "Aunt  Laura!  Aunt  Laura!" 

And  Laura  explained  that  she  and  her  husband  had 
arrived  hi  London  only  the  day  before.  "I  was  so 
afraid,  Tom,"  she  said,  "that  we  should  not  get  here 
until  Christmas  Day  was  over  and  that  you  would 
be  disappointed.  So  I  would  not  let  your  mother 
write  you  that  we  were  on  our  way  home.  You 
must  get  your  things  packed  up  at  once,  and  go  back 
with  me  to  London.  Then  uncle  and  I  will  give  you 
a  splendid  time." 

For  a  minute  or  two  Tom's  face  shone  with  delight. 
Then  he  caught  sight  of  Bertie  and  turned  to  his 
aunt. 

"Dear  Aunt  Laura,"  he  said,  "I  am  very  sorry,  but 
I  can't  go." 

"  Can't  go?  and  why  not?  " 

"Because  I  can't  go  and  leave  Bertie  here  all  alone/' 
he  said  stoutly.  "When  I  was  going  to  be  alone  he 
wrote  and  asked  his  mother  to  let  me  go  home  with 
him.  She  could  not  have  either  of  us  because  Bertie's 
sister  has  scarlet  fever.  He  has  to  stay  here,  and  he 
has  never  been  away  from  home  at  Christmas  time 


302        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

before,  and  I  can't  go  away  and  leave  him  by  himself, 
Aunt  Laura. " 

For  a  minute  Aunt  Laura  looked  at  the  boy  as  if 
she  could  not  believe  him.  Then  she  caught  him  in  her 
arms  and  kissed  him. 

"You  dear  little  boy,  you  shall  not  leave  him.  You 
shall  bring  him  along,  and  we  shall  all  enjoy  ourselves 
together.  Bertie,  my  boy,  you  are  not  very  old  yet, 
but  I  am  going  to  teach  you  a  lesson  as  well  as  I  can. 
It  is  that  kindness  is  never  wasted  in  this  world." 

And  so  Bertie  and  Tom  found  that  there  was  such 
a  thing  as  a  fairy  after  all. 


T 


XXXII 

THE  GREATEST  OF  THESE* 

JOSEPH   MILLS  HANSON 

HE  outside  door  swung  open  suddenly,  letting  a 
cloud  of  steam  into  the  small,  hot  kitchen. 
Charlie  Moore,  a  milk  pail  in  one  hand,  a  lantern  in 
the  other,  closed  the  door  behind  him  with  a  bang,  set 
the  pail  on  the  table  and  stamped  the  snow  from  his 
feet. 

"There's  the  milk,  and  I  near  froze  gettin'  it," 
said  he,  addressing  his  partner,  who  was  chopping 
potatoes  in  a  pan  on  the  stove. 

"Dose  vried  bodadoes  vas  burnt,"  said  the  other, 
wielding  his  knife  vigorously. 

"Are,  eh?  Why  didn't  you  watch  'em  instead  of 
readin'  your  old  Scandinavian  paper?"  answered 
Charlie,  hanging  his  overcoat  and  cap  behind  the  door 
and  laying  his  mittens  under  the  stove  to  dry.  Then 
he  drew  up  a  chair  and  with  much  exertion  pulled 
off  his  heavy  felt  boots  and  stood  them  beside  his 
mittens. 

"Why  didn't  you  shut  the  gate  after  you  came  in 
from  town?  The  cows  got  out  and  went  up  to  Roney's 

•This  story  was  first  printed  in  the  Youth's  Companion,  vol.  76. 

303 


304        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

an*  I  had  to  chase  'cm;  'tain't  any  joke  runnin' 
round  after  cows  such  a  night  as  this."  Having 
relieved  his  mind  of  its  grievance,  Charlie  sat  down 
before  the  oven  door,  and,  opening  it,  laid  a  stick 
of  wood  along  its  outer  edge  and  thrust  his  feet 
into  the  hot  interior,  propping  his  heels  against  the 
stick. 

"Look  oud  for  dese  har  biscuits!"  exclaimed  his 
partner,  anxiously. 

"Oh,  hang  the  biscuits! "  was  Charlie's  hasty  answer. 
"  I'll  watch  'em.  Why  didn't  you?  " 

"Ay  tank  Ay  fergit  hem." 

"Well,  you  don't  want  to  forget.  A  feller  forgot 
his  clothes  once,  an'  he  got  froze." 

"Ay  gass  dose  faller  vas  ketch  in  a  sbring  snowstorm. 
Vas  dose  biscuits  done,  Sharlie?" 

"You  bet  they  are,  Nels,"  replied  Charlie,  looking 
into  the  pan. 

"Dan  subbar  vas  ready.    Yom  on!" 

Nels  picked  up  the  frying-pan  and  Charlie  the 
biscuits,  and  set  them  on  the  oilcloth-covered  table, 
where  a  plate  of  butter,  a  jar  of  plum  jelly,  and  a 
coffee-pot  were  already  standing. 

Outside  the  frozen  kitchen  window  the  snow-covered 
fields  and  meadows  stretched,  glistening  and  silent, 
away  to  the  dark  belt  of  timber  by  the  river.  Along 
the  deep-rutted  road  in  front  a  belated  lumber-wagon 
passed  slowly,  the  wheels  crunching  through  the  packed 
snow  with  a  wavering,  incessant  shriek. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        30$ 

The  two  men  hitched  their  chairs  up  to  the  table, 
and  without  ceremony  helped  themselves  liberally 
10  the  steaming  food.  For  a  few  moments  they  seemed 
oblivious  to  everything  but  the  demands  of  hunger. 
The  potatoes  and  biscuits  disappeared  with  surprising 
rapidity,  washed  down  by  large  drafts  of  coffee. 
These  men,  labouring  steadily  through  the  short  day- 
light hours  in  the  dry,  cold  air  of  the  Dakota  winter, 
were  like  engines  whose  fires  had  burned  low  —  they 
were  taking  fuel.  Presently,  the  first  keen  edge  of 
appetite  satisfied,  they  ate  more  slowly,  and  Nels, 
straightening  up  with  a  sigh,  spoke : 

"Ay  seen  Seigert  in  town  ta-day.  Ha  vants  von 
hundred  fifty  fer  dose  team." 

"Come  down,  eh?"  commented  Charlie.  "Well, 
they're  worth  that.  We'd  better  take  'em,  Nels. 
We'll  need  'em  in  the  spring  if  we  break  the  north 
forty." 

"Yas,  et's  a  nice  team,"  agreed  Nels.  "  Ha  vas 
driven  ham  ta-day." 

"Ishehaulin'corn?" 

"Na;  he  had  his  kids  oop  gettin'  Christmas  bresents." 

"Chris  —  By  gracious!  to-morrow's  Christmas  1" 

Nels  nodded  solemnly,  as  one  possessing  superior 
knowledge.  Charlie  became  thoughtful. 

"We'll  come  in  sort  of  slim  on  it  here,  I  reckon, 
Nels.  Christmas  ain't  right,  somehow,  out  here. 
Back  in  Wisconsin,  where  I  came  from,  there's  where 
you  get  your  Christmas!"  Charlie  spoke  with  the 


306        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

unswerving  prejudice  of  mankind  for  the  land  of  his 
birth. 

"  Yas,  dose  been  right.  En  da  oP  kontry  dey  havin' 
gret  times  Christmas." 

Their  thoughts  were  all  bent  now  upon  the  holiday 
scenes  of  the  past.  As  they  finished  the  meal  and 
cleared  away  and  washed  the  dishes  they  related 
incidents  of  their  boyhood's  time,  compared,  reiterated, 
and  embellished.  As  they  talked  they  grew  jovial, 
and  laughed  often. 

"The  skee  broke  an'  you  went  over  kerplunk,  hey? 
Haw,  haw!  That  reminds  me  of  one  time  in  Wis- 
consin   " 

Something  of  the  joyous  spirit  of  the  Christmas- 
tide  seemed  to  have  entered  into  this  little  farmhouse 
set  in  the  midst  of  the  lonely,  white  fields.  In  the 
hearts  of  these  men,  moving  about  in  their  dim-lighted 
room,  was  reechoed  the  joyous  murmur  of  the  great 
world  without:  the  gayety  of  the  throngs  in  city  streets, 
where  the  brilliant  shop-windows,  rich  with  holiday 
spoils,  smile  out  upon  the  passing  crowd,  and  the  clang 
of  street-cars  and  roar  of  traffic  mingle  with  the  cries 
of  street- venders.  The  work  finished,  they  drew  their 
chairs  to  the  stove,  and  filled  their  pipes,  still  talking. 

"  WeJl,  well,"  said  Charlie,  after  the  laugh  occasioned 
by  one  of  Nels'  droll  stories  had  subsided.  "It's  nice 
to  think  of  those  old  times.  I'd  hate  to  have  been  one 
of  these  kids  that  can't  have  any  fun.  Christmas  or  any 
other  time," 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        307 

"Ay  gass  dere  ain't  anybody  much  dot  don'd  have 
someding  dis  tarns  a  year." 

"Oh,  yes,  there  are,  Nels!  You  bet  there  are!" 
Charlie  nodded  at  his  partner  with  serious  conviction. 
"Now,  there's  the  Roneys,"  he  waved  his  pipe  over 
his  shoulder.  "The  old  man  told  me  to-night  when  I 
was  up  after  the  cows  that  he's  sold  all  the  crops  ex- 
cept what  they  need  for  f  eedin'  —  wheat,  and  corn,  and 
everything,  and  some  hogs  besides  —  and  ain't  got 
hardly  enough  now  for  feed  and  clothes  for  all  that 
family.  The  rent  and  the  lumber  he  had  to  buy  to 
build  the  new  barn  after  the  old  one  burnt  ate  up 
the  money  like  fury.  He  kind  of  laughed,  and  said  he 
guessed  the  children  wouldn't  get  much  Christmas 
this  year.  I  didn't  think  about  it's  being  so  close 
when  he  told  me." 

"No  Christmas!"  Nels'  round  eyes  widened  with 
astonishment.  "Ay  tank  dose  been  pooty  bad!" 
He  studied  the  subject  for  a  few  moments,  his  stolid 
face  suddenly  grown  thoughtful.  Charlie  stared  at 
the  stove.  Far  away  by  the  river  a  lonely  coyote 
set  up  his  quick,  howling  yelp. 

"Dere's  been  seven  kids  oop  dere,"  said  Nels  at 
last,  glancing  up  as  if  for  corroboration. 

"Yes,  seven,"  agreed  Charlie. 

"Say,  do  ve  need  Seigert's  team  very  pad?>; 

"Well,  now  that  depends,"  said  Charlie.  "  Whynot?" 

"Nothin',  only  Ay  vas  tankin'  ve  might  tak'  some 
a  das  veat  we  vas  goin'  to  sell  and  —  and " 


3o8        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"Yep,  what?" 

"And  dumb  it  on  Roney's  granary  floor  to-night 
after  dere  been  asleeb." 

Charlie  stared  at  his  companion  for  a  moment  in 
silence.  Then  he  rose,  and,  approaching  Nels,  exam- 
ined his  partner's  face  with  solemn  scrutiny. 

"By  the  great  horn  spoon,"  he  announced,  finally, 
"you've  got  a  head  on  you  like  a  balloon,  my  boy! 
Keep  on  gettin'  ideas  like  that,  and  you'll  land  in 
Congress  or  the  poor-farm  before  many  years!" 

Then,  abandoning  his  pretense  of  gravity,  he  slapped 
the  other  on  the  back. 

"Why  didn't  I  think  of  that?  It's  the  best  yet. 
Seigert's  team?  Oh,  hang  Seigert's  team.  We  don't 
need  it.  We'll  have  a  little  merry  Christmas  out 
of  this  yet.  Only  they  mustn't  know  where  it  came 
from.  I'll  write  a  note  and  stick  it  under  the  door, 

'You'll  find  some  merry  wheat '  No,  that  ain't 

it.  'You'll  find  some  wheat  hi  the  granary  to  give 
the  kids  a  merry  Christmas  with/  signed,  'Santa 
Claus."' 

He  wrote  out  the  message  in  the  air  with  a  pointing 
forefinger.  He  had  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing 
eagerly. 

"It's  half -past  nine  now,"  he  went  on,  looking  at 
the  clock.  "  It'll  be  eleven  time  we  get  the  stuff  loaded 
and  hauled  up  there.  Let's  go  out  and  get  at  it. 
Lucky  the  bobs  are  on  the  wagon;  they  don't  make  such 
a  racket  as  wheels." 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        309 

He  took  the  lantern  from  its  nail  behind  the  door 
and  lighted  it,  after  which  he  put  on  his  boots,  cap, 
and  mittens,  and  flung  his  overcoat  across  his  shoulders. 
Nels,  meanwhile,  had  put  on  his  outer  garments,  also. 

"  Shut  up  the  stove,Nels."  Charlie  blew  out  the  light 
and  opened  the  door.  "  There,  hang  it ! "  he  exclaimed, 
turning  back.  "I  forgot  the  note.  Ought  to  be  in 
ink,  I  suppose.  Well,  never  mind  now;  we  won't 
put  on  any  style  about  it." 

He  took  down  a  pencil  from  the  shelf,  and,  extracting 
a  bit  of  wrapping  paper  from  a  bundle  behind  the  wood- 
box,  wrote  the  note  by  the  light  of  the  lantern. 

"There,  I  guess  that  will  do,"  he  said,  finally. 
" Come  on!" 

Outside,  the  night  air  was  cold  and  bracing,  and 
in  the  black  vault  of  the  sky  the  winter  constellations 
flashed  and  throbbed.  The  shadows  of  the  two  men, 
thrown  by  the  lantern,  bobbed  huge  and  grotesque 
across  the  snow  and  among  the  bare  branches  of  the 
cottonwoods,  as  they  moved  toward  the  barn. 

"  Ay  tank  ve  put  on  dose  extra  side  poards  and  make 
her  an  even  fifty  pushel,"  said  Nels,  after  they  had 
backed  the  wagon  up  to  the  granary  door.  "  Ve  might 
as  veil  do  it  oop  right,  skence  ve're  at  it." 

Having  carried  out  this  suggestion,  the  two  shovelled 
steadily,  with  short  intervals  of  rest,  for  three  quarters 
of  an  hour,  the  dark  pile  of  grain  in  the  wagon-box 
rising  gradually  until  it  stood  flush  with  the  top. 

Good  it  was  to  look  upon,  cold  and  soft  and  yielding 


3  ic        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

to  the  touch,  this  heaped-up  wealth  from  the  inex- 
haustible treasure-house  of  the  mighty  West.  Charlie 
and  Nels  felt  something  of  this  as  they  viewed  the 
results  of  their  labours  for  a  moment  before  hitching 
up  the  team. 

"It's  A  number  one  hard,"  said  Charlie,  picking  up 
a  handful  and  sifting  it  slowly  through  his  fingers, 
"and  it'll  fetch  seventy-four  cents.  But  you  can't 
raise  any  worse  on  this  old  farm  of  ours  if  you  try, " 
he  added,  a  little  proudly.  "Nor  anywhere  else 
in  the  Jim  River  Valley,  for  that  matter." 

As  they  approached  the  Roney  place,  looking  dim 
and  indistinct  in  the  darkness,  their  voices  hushed 
apprehensively,  and  the  noise  of  the  sled-runners 
slipping  through  the  snow  seemed  to  them  to  increase 
from  a  purr  to  a  roar. 

"Here,  stob  a  minute!"  whispered  Nels,  hi  agony 
of  discovery.  "Ve're  magin'  an  awful  noise.  Ay '11 
go  und  take  a  beek." 

He  slipped  away  and  cautiously  approached  the 
house.  "Et's  all  right,"  he  whispered,  hoarsely, 
returning  after  a  moment;  "dere  all  asleeb.  But  go 
easy ;  Ay  tank  ve  pest  go  easy. '  '  They  seemed  burdened 
all  at  once  with  the  consciences  of  criminals,  and  went 
forward  with  almost  guilty  timidity. 

"Thunder,  dere's  a  bump!  Vy  don'd  you  drive 
garefuUer,  Sharlie?" 

" Drive  yourself,  if  you  think  you  can  do  any  better! " 

As  they  came  into  the  yard  a  dog  suddenly  ran 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        311 

out  from  the  barn,  barking  furiously.  Charlie  reined 
up  with  an  ejaculation  of  despair;  "Look  there,  the 
dog!  We're  done  for  now,  sure!  Stop  him,  Nels! 
Throw  somethin'  at  'im!" 

The  noise  seemed  to  their  excited  ears  louder  than 
the  crash  of  artillery.  Nels  threw  a  piece  of  snow 
crust.  The  dog  ran  back  a  few  steps,  but  his  barking 
did  not  dimmish. 

"Here,  hold  the  lines.  I'll  try  to  catch  'im." 
Charlie  jumped  from  the  wagon  and  approached  the 
dog  with  coaxing  words:  "Come,  doggie,  good  doggie, 
nice  boy,  come!" 

His  manoeuvre,  however,  merely  served  to  in- 
crease the  animal's  frenzy.  As  Charlie  approached  the 
dog  retired  slowly  toward  the  house,  his  head  thrown 
back,  and  his  rapid  barking  increased  to  a  long-drawn 
howl. 

"Good  boy,  come!  Bother  the  brute!  He'll  wake 
up  the  whole  household!  Nice  doggie!  Phe-e " 

The  noise,  however,  had  no  apparent  effect  upon  the 
occupants  of  the  house.  All  remained  as  dark  and 
silent  as  ever. 

"Sharlie,  Sharlie,  let  him  go!"  cried  Nels,  in  a  voice 
smothered  with  laughter.  "Ay  go  in  dose  parn; 
maype  ha'll  chase  me." 

His  hope  was  well  founded.  The  dog,  observing 
this  treacherous  occupation  by  the  enemy  of  his  last 
harbour  of  refuge,  gave  pursuit  and  disappeared 
within  the  door,  which  Charlie,  hard  behind  him,  closed 


312        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

with  a  bang.  There  was  the  sound  of  a  hurried  scuffle 
within.  The  dog's  barking  gave  place  to  terrified 
whinings,  which  hi  turn  were  suddenly  quenched  to 
a  choking  murmur. 

"  Gome  in,  Sharlie,  kvick ! " 

"You  got  him?"  queried  Charlie,  opening  the  door 
cautiously.  "Did  he  bite  you? " 

"Na,  yust  ma  mitten.  Gat  a  sack  or  someding  da 
die  him  oop  in." 

A  sack  was  procured  from  somewhere,  into  which 
the  dog,  now  silenced  from  sheer  exhaustion  and 
fright,  was  unceremoniously  thrust,  after  which  the 
sack  was  tied  and  flung  into  the  wagon.  This  formid- 
able obstacle  overcome  and  the  Roneys  still  slumbering 
peacefully,  the  rest  was  easy.  The  granary  door  was 
pried  open  and  the  wheat  shovelled  hurriedly  hi  upon 
the  empty  floor.  Charlie  then  crept  up  to  the  house 
and  slipped  his  note  under  the  door. 

The  sack  was  lifted  from  the  now  empty  wagon  and 
opened  before  the  barn,  whereupon  its  occupant  slipped 
meekly  out  and  retreated  at  once  to  a  far  corner, 
seemingly  too  much  incensed  at  his  discourteous 
treatment  even  to  fling  a  volley  of  farewell  barks  at 
his  departing  captors. 

"Veil,"  remarked  Nels,  with  a  sigh  of  relief  as  they 
gained  the  road,  "Ay  tank  dose  Roneys  pelieve  en 
Santa  Claus  now.  Dose  peen  funny  vay  fer  Santa 
Claus  to  coom." 

Charlie's  laugh  was  good   to   hear.    "He  didn't 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        313 

exactly  come  down  the  chimney,  that's  a  fact,  but 
it'll  do  at  a  pinch.  We  ought  to  have  told  them 
to  get  a  present  for  the  dog  —  collar  and  chain.  I 
reckon  he  wouldn't  hardly  be  thankful  for  it,  though, 
eh?" 

"Ay  gass  not.    Ha  liges  ta  haf  hes  nights  ta  hemself ." 

"Well,  we  had  our  fun,  anyway.  Sort  of  puts  me 
in  mind  of  old  Wisconsin,  somehow." 

From  far  off  over  the  valley,  with  its  dismantled 
cornfields  and  snow-covered  haystacks,  beyond  the 
ice-bound  river,  floated  slow,  and  sonorous,  the  mellow 
clanging  of  church  bells.  They  were  ushering  hi  the 
Christmas  morn. 

Overhead  the  starlit  heavens  glistened,  brooding  and 
mysterious,  looking  down  with  luminous,  loving  eyes 
upon  these  humble  sons  of  men  doing  a  good  deed, 
from  the  impulse  of  simple,  generous  hearts,  as  upon 
that  other  Christmas  morning,  long  ago,  when  the 
Jewish  shepherds,  guarding  their  flocks  by  night,  read 
in  their  shining  depths  that  hi  Bethlehem  of  Judea  the 
Christ-Child  was  born. 

The  rising  sun  was  touching  the  higher  hilltops 
with  a  faint  rush  of  crimson  the  next  morning  when  the 
back  door  of  the  Roney  house  opened  with  a  creak, 
and  Mr.  Roney,  still  heavy-eyed  with  sleep,  stumbled 
out  upon  the  porch,  stretched  his  arms  above  his  head, 
yawned,  blinked  at  the  dazzling  snow,  and  then  sham- 
bled off  toward  the  barn. 

As  he  approached,  the  dog  ran  eagerly  out,  gambolled 


3i4        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

meekly  around  his  feet  and  caressed  his  boots. 
man  patted  him  kindly. 

"Hello,  old  boy!  What  were  you  yappin'  around 
so  for  last  night,  huh?  Grain-thieves?  You  needn't 
worry  about  them.  There  ain't  nothin'  left  for  them 
to  steal.  No,  sir !  If  they  got  into  that  granary  they'd 
have  to  take  a  lantern  along  to  find  a  pint  of  wheat. 
I  don't  suppose,"  he  added,  reflectively,  "that  I  could 
scrape  up  enough  to  feed  the  chickens  this  mornin', 
but  I  guess  I  might's  well  see." 

He  passed  over  to  the  little  building.  What  he 
saw  when  he  looked  within  seemed  for  a  moment  to 
produce  no  impression  upon  him  whatever.  He  stared 
at  the  hillock  of  grain  in  motionless  silence. 

Finally  Mr.  Roney  gave  utterance  to  a  single  word, 
"Geewhilikins!"  and  started  for  the  house  on  a  run. 
Into  the  kitchen,  where  his  wife  was  just  starting  the 
fire,  the  excited  man  burst  like  a  whirlwind. 

"Come  out  here,  Mary!"  he  cried.  "Come  out 
here,  quick!" 

The  worthy  woman,  unaccustomed  to  such  demon- 
strations, looked  at  him  hi  amazement. 

"For  goodness  sake,  what's  come  over  you,  Peter 
Roney?"  she  exclaimed.  "Are  you  daft?  Don't 
make  such  a  noise!  You'll  wake  the  young  ones,  and 
I  don't  want  them  waked  till  need  be,  with  no  Christ- 
mas for  'em,  poor  little  things!" 

"Never  mind  the  young  'uns,"  he  replied.  "Come 
on!" 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        315 

As  they  passed  out  he  noticed  the  slip  of  paper  under 
the  door  and  picked  it  up,  but  without  comment. 
He  charged  down  upon  the  granary,  his  wife,  with  a 
shawl  over  her  head,  close  behind. 

She  peered  in,  apprehensively  at  first,  then  with  eyes 
of  widening  wonder. 

"Why,  Peter!"  she  said,  turning  to  him.  "Why, 
Peter !  What  does  —  I  thought " 

"You  thought!"  he  broke  in.  "Me,  too.  But 
it  ain't  so.  It  means  that  weVe  got  some  of  the  best 
neighbours  that  ever  was,  a  thinkin'  of  our  young  'uns 
this  way!  Read  that!"  and  he  thrust  the  paper  into 
her  hand. 

"Why,  Peter!"  she  ejaculated  again,  weakly.  Then 
suddenly  she  turned,  and  laying  her  head  on  his  shoul- 
der, began  to  sob  softly. 

"There,  there,"  he  said,  patting  her  arm  awkwardly. 
"Don't  you  go  and  cry  now.  Let's  just  be  thankful 
to  the  good  Lord  for  puttin'  such  fellers  into  the  world 
as  them  fellers  down  the  road.  And  now  you  run  in 
and  hurry  up  breakfast  while  I  do  up  the  chores. 
Then  we'll  hitch  up  and  get  into  town  'fore  the  stores 
close.  Tell  the  young  'uns  Santy  didn't  get  round 
last  night  with  their  things,  but  we've  got  word  to 
meet  him  in  town.  Hey?  Yes,  I  saw  just  the  kind  of 
sled  Pete  wants  when  I  was  up  yesterday,  and  that  china 
doll  for  Mollie.  Yes,  tell  'em  anything  you  want, 
Twon't  be  too  big.  Santy  Glaus  has  come  to  Roney's 
ranch  this  year,  sure!" 


XXXIII 
LITTLE  GRETCHEN  AND  THE  WOODEN  SHOE* 

ELIZABETH    HARRISON 

THE  following  story  is  one  of  many  which  has 
drifted  down  to  us  from  the  story-loving  nurseries 
and  hearthstones  of  Germany.  I  cannot  recall  when 
I  first  had  it  told  to  me  as  a  child,  varied,  of  course, 
by  different  tellers,  but  always  leaving  that  sweet,  tender 
impression  of  God's  loving  care  for  the  least  of  his 
children.  I  have  since  read  different  versions  of  it 
hi  at  least  a  half-dozen  story  books  for  children. 

Once  upon  a  time,  a  long  time  ago,  far  away  across 
the  great  ocean,  in  a  country  called  Germany,  there 
could  be  seen  a  small  log  hut  on  the  edge  of  a  great 
forest,  whose  fir-trees  extended  for  miles  and  miles  to 
the  north.  This  little  house,  made  of  heavy  hewn  logs, 
had  but  one  room  hi  it.  A  rough  pine  door  gave  en- 
trance to  this  room,  and  a  small  square  window  ad- 
mitted the  light.  At  the  back  of  the  house  was  built 
an  old-fashioned  stone  chimney,  out  of  which  in  winter 
usually  curled  a  thin,  blue  smoke,  showing  that  there 
was  not  very  much  fire  within. 

Small  as  the  house  was,  it  was  large  enough  for  the 

*From  "  Christmastide,"  published  by  the  Chicago  Kindergarten  College, 
copyright,  1902 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        317 

two  people  who  lived  in  it.  I  want  to  tell  you  a  story 
to-day  about  these  two  people.  One  was  an  old,  gray- 
haired  woman,  so  old  that  the  little  children  of  the 
village,  nearly  half  a  mile  away,  often  wondered  whether 
she  had  come  into  the  world  with  the  huge  mountains, 
and  the  great  fir-trees,  which  stood  like  giants  back 
of  her  small  hut.  Her  face  was  wrinkled  all  over  with 
deep  lines,  which,  if  the  children  could  only  have  read 
aright,  would  have  told  them  of  many  years  of  cheerful, 
happy,  self-sacrifice,  of  loving,  anxious  watching  beside 
sick-beds,  of  quiet  endurance  of  pain,  of  many  a  day 
of  hunger  and  cold,  and  of  a  thousand  deeds  of  un- 
selfish love  for  other  people;  but,  of  course,  they  could 
not  read  this  strange  handwriting.  They  only  knew 
that  she  was  old  and  wrinkled,  and  that  she  stooped 
as  she  walked.  None  of  them  seemed  to  fear  her,  for 
her  smile  was  always  cheerful,  and  she  had  a  kindly 
word  for  each  of  them  if  they  chanced  to  meet  her  on 
her  way  to  and  from  the  village.  With  this  old,  old 
woman  lived  a  very  little  girl.  So  bright  and  happy 
was  she  that  the  travellers  who  passed  by  the  lone- 
some little  house  on  the  edge  of  the  forest  often  thought 
of  a  sunbeam  as  they  saw  her.  These  two  people  were 
known  in  the  village  as  Granny  Goodyear  and  Little 
Gretchen. 

The  winter  had  come  and  the  frost  had  snapped  off 
many  of  the  smaller  branches  from  the  pine-trees 
in  the  forest.  Gretchen  and  her  Granny  were  up  by 
daybreak  each  morning.  After  their  simple  breakfast 


"3 1 8        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

of  oatmeal,  Gretchen  would  run  to  the  little  closet  and 
fetch  Granny's  old  woollen  shawl,  which  seemed  almost 
as  old  as  Granny  herself.  Gretchen  always  claimed 
the  right  to  put  the  shawl  over  her  Granny's  head, 
even  though  she  had  to  climb  onto  the  wooden  bench 
to  do  it.  After  carefully  pinning  it  under  Granny's 
chin,  she  gave  her  a  good-bye  kiss,  and  Granny  started 
out  for  her  morning's  work  hi  the  forest.  This  work 
was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  gathering  up  of  the 
twigs  and  branches  which  the  autumn  winds  And  winter 
frosts  had  thrown  upon  the  ground.  These  were  care- 
fully gathered  into  a  large  bundle  which  Granny  tied 
together  with  a  strong  linen  band.  She  then  managed 
to  lift  the  bundle  to  her  shoulder  and  trudged  off  to  the 
village  with  it.  Here  she  sold  the  fagots  for  kindling 
wood  to  the  people  of  the  village.  Sometimes  she 
would  get  only  a  few  pence  each  day,  and  sometimes 
a  dozen  or  more,  but  on  this  money  little  Gretchen 
and  she  managed  to  live;  they  had  their  home,  and 
the  forest  kindly  furnished  the  wood  for  the  fire 
which  kept  them  warm  in  cold  weather. 

In  the  summer  tune  Granny  had  a  little  garden  at 
the  back  of  the  hut  where  she  raised,  with  little  Gret- 
chen's  help,  a  few  potatoes  and  turnips  and  onions. 
These  she  carefully  stored  away  for  winter  use.  To  this 
meagre  supply,  the  pennies,  gained  by  selling  the  twigs 
from  the  forest,  added  the  oatmeal  for  Gretchen  and 
a  little  black  coffee  for  Granny.  Meat  was  a  thing 
they  never  thought  of  having.  It  cost  too  much  money. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        319 

Still,  Granny  and  Gretchen  were  very  happy,  because 
they  loved  each  other  dearly.  Sometimes  Gretchen 
would  be  left  alone  all  day  long  in  the  hut,  because 
Granny  would  have  some  work  to  do  in  the  village 
after  selling  her  bundle  of  sticks  and  twigs.  It  was 
during  these  long  days  that  little  Gretchen  had  taught 
herself  to  sing  the  song  which  the  wind  sang  to  the 
pine  branches.  In  the  summer  time  she  learned 
the  chirp  and  twitter  of  the  birds,  until  her  voice 
might  almost  be  mistaken  for  a  bird's  voice;  she  learned 
to  dance  as  the  swaying  shadows  did,  and  even  to 
talk  to  the  stars  which  shone  through  the  little  square 
window  when  Granny  came  home  too  late  or  too  tired 
to  talk. 

Sometimes,  when  the  weather  was  fine,  or  her  Granny 
had  an  extra  bundle  of  newly  knitted  stockings  to 
take  to  the  village,  she  would  let  little  Gretchen  go 
along  with  her.  It  chanced  that  one  of  these  trips 
to  the  town  came  just  the  week  before  Christmas, 
and  Gretchen's  eyes  were  delighted  by  the  sight  of  she 
lovely  Christmas-trees  which  stood  hi  the  window  of 
the  village  store.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  would 
never  tire  of  looking  at  the  knit  dolls,  the  woolly  lambs, 
the  little  wooden  shops  with  their  queer,  painted  men 
and  women  in  them,  and  all  the  other  fine  things. 
She  had  never  owned  a  plaything  in  her  whole  life; 
therefore,  toys  which  you  and  I  would  not  think  much 
of,  seemed  to  her  to  be  very  beautiful. 

That  night,  after  their  supper  of  baked  potatoes 


320        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

was  over,  and  little  Gretchen  had  cleared  away  the 
dishes  and  swept  up  the  hearth,  because  Granny  dear 
was  so  tired,  she  brought  her  own  small  wooden  stool 
and  placed  it  very  near  Granny's  feet  and  sat  down 
upon  it,  folding  her  hands  on  her  lap.  Granny  knew 
that  this  meant  she  wanted  to  talk  about  something, 
so  she  smilingly  laid  away  the  large  Bible  which  she 
had  been  reading,  and  took  up  her  knitting,  which  was 
as  much  as  to  say:  "Well,  Gretchen,  dear,  Granny  is 
ready  to  listen." 

"Granny,"  said  Gretchen  slowly,  "it's  almost 
Christmas  time,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  dearie,"  said  Granny,  "only  five  more  days 
now,"  and  then  she  sighed,  but  little  Gretchen  was  so 
happy  that  she  did  not  notice  Granny's  sigh. 

"What  do  you  think,  Granny,  I'll  get  this  Christ- 
mas?" said  she,  looking  up  eagerly  into  Granny's  face. 

"Ah,  child,  child,"  said  Granny,  shaking  her  head, 
"you'll  have  no  Christmas  this  year.  We  are  too 
poor  for  that." 

"Oh,  but,  Granny,"  interrupted  little  Gretchen, 
"think  of  all  the  beautiful  toys  we  saw  in  the  village 
to-day.  Surely  Santa  Claus  has  sent  enough  for 
every  little  child." 

"Ah,  dearie,"  said  Granny,  "those  toys  are  for 
people  who  can  pay  money  for  them,  and  we  have  no 
money  to  spend  for  Christmas  toys." 

"Well,  Granny,"  said  Gretchen,  "perhaps  some  of 
the  little  children  who  live  in  the  great  house  on  the 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        321 

hill  at  the  other  end  of  the  village  will  be  willing  to 
share  some  of  their  toys  with  me.  They  will  be  so 
glad  to  give  some  to  a  little  girl  who  has  none." 

"Dear  child,  dear  child,"  said  Granny,  leaning 
forward  and  stroking  the  soft,  shiny  hair  of  the  little 
girl,  "your  heart  is  full  of  love.  You  would  be  glad  to 
bring  a  Christmas  to  every  child;  but  their  heads  are 
so  full  of  what  they  are  going  to  get  that  they  forget 
all  about  anybody  else  but  themselves."  Then  she 
sighed  and  shook  her  head. 

"Well,  Granny,"  said  Gretchen,  her  bright,  happy 
tone  of  voice  growing  a  little  less  joyous,  "perhaps  the 
dear  Santa  Claus  will  show  some  of  the  village  children 
how  to  make  presents  that  do  not  cost  money,  and  some 
of  them  may  surprise  me  Christmas  morning  with  a 
present.  And,  Granny,  dear,"  added  she,  springing 
up  from  her  low  stool,  "can't  I  gather  some  of  the  pine 
branches  and  take  them  to  the  old  sick  man  who  lives 
in  the  house  by  the  mill,  so  that  he  can  have  the  sweet 
smell  of  our  pine  forest  in  his  room  all  Christmas  day?  " 

"Yes,  dearie,"  said  Granny,  "you  may  do  what  you 
can  to  make  the  Christmas  bright  and  happy,  but  you 
must  not  expect  any  present  yourself." 

"Oh,  but,  Granny,"  said  little  Gretchen,  her  face 
brightening,  "you  forget  all  about  the  shining  Christmas 
angels,  who  came  down  to  earth  and  sang  their  wonder- 
ful song  the  night  the  beautiful  Christ-Child  was  born! 
They  are  so  loving  and  good  that  they  will  not  forget 
any  little  child.  I  shall  ask  my  dear  stars  to-night 


322        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

to  tell  them  of  us.  You  know,"  she  added,  with  a 
look  of  relief,  "the  stars  are  so  very  high  that  they 
must  know  the  angels  quite  well,  as  they  come  and 
go  with  their  messages  from  the  loving  God." 

Granny  sighed,  as  she  half  whispered,  "Poor  child, 
poor  child!"  but  Gretchen  threw  her  arm  around  Gran- 
ny's neck  and  gave  her  a  hearty  kiss,  saying  as  she  did 
so:  "Oh,  Granny,  Granny,  you  don't  talk  to  the  stars 
often  enough,  else  you  wouldn't  be  sad  at  Christmas 
time."  Then  she  danced  all  around  the  room,  whirl- 
ing her  little  skirts  about  her  to  show  Granny  how  the 
wind  had  made  the  snow  dance  that  day.  She  looked 
so  droll  and  funny  that  Granny  forgot  her  cares  and 
worries  and  laughed  with  little  Gretchen  over  her 
new  snow-dance.  The  days  passed  on,  and  the  morn- 
ing before  Christmas  Eve  came.  Gretchen  having 
tidied  up  the  little  room  —  for  Granny  had  taught 
her  to  be  a  careful  little  housewife  —  was  off  to  the 
forest,  singing  a  birdlike  song,  almost  as  happy  and 
free  as  the  birds  themselves.  She  was  very  busy  that 
day,  preparing  a  surprise  for  Granny.  First,  however, 
she  gathered  the  most  beautiful  of  the  fir  branches 
within  her  reach  to  take  the  next  morning  to  the  old 
sick  man  who  lived  by  the  mill. 

The  day  was  all  too  short  for  the  happy  little  girl. 
When  Granny  came  trudging  wearily  home  that  night, 
she  found  the  frame  of  the  doorway  covered  with  green 
pine  branches. 

"It's  to  welcome  you,  Granny!    It's  to  welcome 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        323 

you!"  cried  Gretchen;  "our  old  dear  home  wanted  to 
give  you  a  Christmas  welcome.  Don't  you  see, 
the  branches  of  evergreen  make  it  look  as  if  it  were 
smiling  all  over,  and  it  is  trying  to  say,  'A  happy 
Christmas'  to  you,  Granny!" 

Granny  laughed  and  kissed  the  little  girl,  as  they 
opened  the  door  and  went  in  together.  Here  was  a  new 
surprise  for  Granny.  The  four  posts  of  the  wooden 
bed,  which  stood  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  had  been 
trimmed  by  the  busy  little  fingers,  with  smaller  and 
more  flexible  branches  of  the  pine-trees.  A  small 
bouquet  of  red  mountain-ash  berries  stood  at  each  side 
of  the  fireplace,  and  these,  together  with  the  trimmed 
posts  of  the  bed,  gave  the  plain  old  room  quite 
a  festival  look.  Gretchen  laughed  and  clapped  her 
hands  and  danced  about  until  the  house  seemed  full 
of  music  to  poor,  tired  Granny,  whose  heart  had  been 
sad  as  she  turned  toward  their  home  that  night, 
thinking  of  the  disappointment  which  must  come  to 
loving  little  Gretchen  the  next  morning. 

After  supper  was  over  little  Gretchen  drew  her  stool 
up  to  Granny's  side,  and  laying  her  soft,  little  hands 
on  Granny's  knee,  asked  to  be  told  once  again  the 
story  of  the  coming  of  the  Christ-Child;  how  the  night 
that  he  was  born  the  beautiful  angels  had  sung  their 
wonderful  song,  and  how  the  whole  sky  had  become 
bright  with  a  strange  and  glorious  light,  never  seen 
by  the  people  of  earth  before.  Gretchen  had  heard 
the  story  many,  many  times  before,  but  she  never 


324        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

grew  tired  of  it,  and  now  that  Christmas  Eve  had  come 
again,  the  happy  little  child  wanted  to  hear  it  once 
more. 

When  Granny  had  finished  telling  it  the  two  sat 
quiet  and  silent  for  a  little  while  thinking  it  over; 
then  Granny  rose  and  said  that  it  was  time  for  them 
to  go  to  bed.  She  slowly  took  off  her  heavy  wooden 
shoes,  such  as  are  worn  in  that  country,  and  placed 
them  beside  the  hearth.  Gretchen  looked  thoughtfully 
at  them  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  then  she  said, *  Granny, 
don't  you  think  that  somebody  in  all  this  wide  world 
will  think  of  us  to-night?  " 

"Nay,  Gretchen,"  said  Granny,  "I  don't  think  any 
one  will." 

"  Well,  then,  Granny,"  said  Gretchen,  "the  Christmas 
angels  will,  I  know;  so  I  am  going  to  take  one  of  your 
wooden  shoes,  and  put  it  on  the  windowsill  outside, 
so  that  they  may  see  it  as  they  pass  by.  I  am  sure 
the  stars  will  tell  the  Christmas  angels  where  the  shoe 


is." 


"Ah,  you  foolish,  foolish  child,"  said  Granny. 
"you  are  only  getting  ready  for  a  disappointment 
To-morrow  morning  there  will  be  nothing  whatever 
in  the  shoe.  I  can  tell  you  that  now." 

But  little  Gretchen  would  not  listen.  She  only  shook 
her  head  and  cried  out:  "Ah,  Granny,  you  don't 
talk  enough  to  the  stars."  With  this  she  seized  the 
shoe,  and,  opening  the  door,  hurried  out  to  place  it 
on  the  windowsill.  It  was  very  dark  without,  and 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        324 

something  soft  and  cold  seemed  to  gently  kiss  her  hair 
and  face.  Gretchen  knew  by  this  that  it  was  snowing, 
and  she  looked  up  to  the  sky,  anxious  to  see  if  the  stars 
were  in  sight,  but  a  strong  wind  was  tumbling  the 
dark,  heavy  snow-clouds  about  and  had  shut  away 
all  else. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Gretchen  softly  to  herself, 
"the  stars  are  up  there,  even  if  I  can't  see  them,  and 
the  Christmas  angels  do  not  mind  snowstorms." 

Just  then  a  rough  wind  went  sweeping  by  the  little 
girl,  whispering  something  to  her  which  she  could  not 
understand,  and  then  it  made  a  sudden  rush  up  to  the 
snow-clouds  and  parted  them,  so  that  the  deep, 
mysterious  sky  appeared  beyond,  and  shining  down' 
out  of  the  midst  of  it  was  Gretchen's  favourite  star. 

"Ah,  little  star,  little  star!"  said  the  child,  laughing 
aloud,  "I  knew  you  were  there,  though  I  couldn't 
see  you.  Will  you  whisper  to  the  Christmas  angels 
as  they  come  by  that  little  Gretchen  wants  so  very 
much  to  have  a  Christmas  gift  to-morrow  morning, 
if  they  have  one  to  spare,  and  that  she  has  put  one 
of  Granny's  shoes  upon  the  windowsill  ready  for  it?" 

A  moment  more  and  the  little  girl,  standing  on 
tiptoe,  had  reached  the  windowsill  and  placed  the 
shoe  upon  it,  and  was  back  again  in  the  house  beside 
Granny  and  the  warm  fire. 

The  two  went  quietly  to  bed,  and  that  night  as  little 
Gretchen  knelt  to  pray  to  the  Heavenly  Father,  she 
thanked  him  for  having  sent  the  Christ-Child  into  the 


326        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

world  to  teach  all  mankind  how  to  be  loving  and 
unselfish,  and  in  a  few  moments  she  was  quietly  sleep- 
ing, dreaming  of  the  Christmas  angels. 

The  next  morning,  very  early,  even  before  the  sun 
was  up,  little  Gretchen  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of 
sweet  music  coming  from  the  village.  She  listened 
for  a  moment  and  then  she  knew  that  the  choir -boys 
were  singing  the  Christmas  carols  in  the  open  air  of 
the  village  street.  She  sprang  up  out  of  bed  and  began 
to  dress  herself  as  quickly  as  possible,  singing  as  she 
dressed.  While  Granny  was  slowly  putting  on  her 
clothes,  little  Gretchen,  having  finished  dressing 
herself,  unfastened  the  door  and  hurried  out  to  see 
what  the  Christmas  angels  had  left  hi  the  old  wooden 
shoe. 

The  white  snow  covered  everything  —  trees,  stumps, 
roads,  and  pastures  —  until  the  whole  world  looked 
like  fairyland.  Gretchen  climbed  up  on  a  large  stone 
which  was  beneath  the  window  and  carefully  lifted 
down  the  wooden  shoe.  The  snow  tumbled  off  of  it 
in  a  shower  over  the  little  girl's  hands,  but  she  did  not 
heed  that;  she  ran  hurriedly  back  into  the  house, 
putting  her  hand  into  the  toe  of  the  shoe  as  she  ran. 

"Oh,  Granny!  Oh,  Granny!"  she  exclaimed,  "you 
didn't  believe  the  Christmas  angels  would  think  about 
us,  but  see,  they  have,  they  have!  Here  is  a  dear 
little  bird  nestled  down  in  the  toe  of  your  shoe! 
Oh,  isn't  he  beautiful?" 

Grannv  came  forward  and  looked  at  what  the  child 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        327 

was  holding  lovingly  in  her  hand.  There  she  saw  a 
tiny  chick-a-dee,  whose  wing  was  evidently  broken  by 
the  rough  and  boisterous  winds  of  the  night  before, 
and  who  had  taken  shelter  in  the  safe,  dry  toe  of  the 
old  wooden  shoe.  She  gently  took  the  little  bird  out 
of  Gretchen's  hands,  and  skilfully  bound  his  broken 
wing  to  his  side,  so  that  he  need  not  hurt  himself  by 
trying  to  fly  with  it.  Then  she  showed  Gretchen  how 
to  make  a  nice  warm  nest  for  the  little  stranger, 
close  beside  the  fire,  and  when  their  breakfast  was 
ready  she  let  Gretchen  feed  the  little  bird  with  a  few 
moist  crumbs. 

Later  in  the  day  Gretchen  carried  the  fresh,  green 
boughs  to  the  old  sick  man  by  the  mill,  and  on  her 
way  home  stopped  to  see  and  enjoy  the  Christmas 
toys  of  some  other  children  whom  she  knew,  never 
once  wishing  that  they  were  hers.  When  she  reached 
home  she  found  that  the  little  bird  had  gone  to  sleep. 
Soon,  however,  he  opened  his  eyes  and  stretched  his 
head  up,  saying  just  as  plain  as  a  bird  could  say, 

"Now,  my  new  friends,!  want  you  to  give  me  some- 
thing more  to  eat."  Gretchen  gladly  fed  him  again,  and 
then,  holding  him  in  her  lap,  she  softly  and  gently 
stroked  his  gray  feathers  until  the  little  creature 
seemed  to  lose  all  fear  of  her.  That  evening  Granny 
taught  her  a  Christmas  hymn  and  told  her  another 
beautiful  Christmas  story.  Then  Gretchen  made  up  a 
funny  little  story  to  tell  to  the  birdie.  He  winked  his 
eyes  and  turned  his  head  from  side  to  side  in  such  a 


328        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

droll  fashion  that  Gretchen  laughed  until  the  tears 
came. 

As  Granny  and  she  got  ready  for  bed  that  night, 
Gretchen  put  her  arms  softly  around  Granny's  neck, 
and  whispered:  "What  a  beautiful  Christmas  we 
have  had  to-day,  Granny!  Is  there  anything  in  the 
world  more  lovely  than  Christmas?  " 

"Nay,  child,  nay,"  said  Granny,  "not  to  such  loving 
hearts  as  yours." 


XXXIV 
CHRISTMAS  ON  BIG  RATTLE* 

THEODORE  GOODRIDGE  ROBERTS 

ARCHER  sat  by  the  rude  hearth  of  his  Big  Rattle 
camp,  brooding  in  a  sort  of  tired  contentment 
over  the  spitting  fagots  of  var  and  glowing  coals  of 
birch. 

It  was  Christmas  Eve.  He  had  been  out  on  his 
snowshoes  all  that  day,  and  all  the  day  before, 
springing  his  traps  along  the  streams  and  putting 
his  deadfalls  out  of  commission  —  rather  queer  work 
for  a  trapper  to  be  about. 

But  Archer,  despite  all  his  gloomy  manner,  was 
really  a  sentimentalist,  who  practised  what  he  felt. 

"Christmas  is  a  season  of  peace  on  earth,"  he  had 
told  himself,  while  demolishing  the  logs  of  a  sinister 
deadfall  with  his  axe;  and  now  the  remembrance  of 
his  quixotic  deed  added  a  brightness  to  the  fire  and 
to  the  rough,  undecorated  walls  of  the  camp. 

Outside,  the  wind  ran  high  in  the  forest,  breaking  and 
sweeping  tidelike  over  the  reefs  of  treetops. 

The  air  was  bitterly  cold.  Another  voice,  almost 
as  fitful  as  the  sough  of  the  wind,  sounded  across  the 

*This  story  was  first  printed  in  the  Youth's  Companion,  Dec.  14, 1905. 


330        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

night.  It  was  the  waters  of  Stone  Arrow  Falls, 
above  Big  Rattle. 

The  frosts  had  drawn  their  bonds  of  ice  and  blankets 
of  silencing  snow  over  all  the  rest  of  the  stream,  but 
the  white  and  black  face  of  the  falls  still  flashed  from  a 
window  in  the  great  house  of  crystal,  and  threw  out 
a  voice  of  desolation. 

Sacobie  Bear,  a  full-blooded  Micmac,  uttered  a 
grunt  of  relief  when  his  ears  caught  the  bellow  of 
Stone  Arrow  Falls.  He  stood  still,  and  turned  his 
head  from  side  to  side,  questioningly. 

"Good!"  he  said.  "Big  Rattle  off  there,  Archer's 
camp  over  there.  I  go  there.  Good  'nough!" 

He  hitched  his  old  smooth-bore  rifle  higher  under 
his  arm  and  continued  his  journey.  Sacobie  had 
tramped  many  miles  —  all  the  way  from  ice-imprisoned 
Fox  Harbor.  His  papoose  was  sick.  His  squaw  was 
hungry.  Sacobie's  belt  was  drawn  tight. 

During  all  that  weary  journey  his  old  rifle  had  not 
banged  once,  although  few  eyes  save  those  of  timber- 
wolf  and  lynx  were  sharper  hi  the  hunt  than  Sacobie's. 
The  Indian  was  reeling  with  hunger  and  weakness, 
but  he  held  bravely  on. 

A  white  man,  no  matter  how  courageous  and  sinewy, 
would  have  been  prone  hi  the  snow  by  that  tune. 

But  Sacobie,  with  his  head  down  and  his  round 
snowshoes  padding!  padding!  like  the  feet  of  a  frightened 
duck,  raced  with  death  toward  the  haven  of  Archer's 
cabin. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        331 

Archer  was  dreaming  of  a  Christmas-time  in  a  great 
faraway  city  when  he  was  startled  by  a  rattle  of  snow- 
shoes  at  his  threshold  and  a  soft  beating  on  his  door, 
like  weak  blows  from  mittened  hands.  He  sprang 
across  the  cabin  and  pulled  open  the  door. 

A  short,  stooping  figure  shuffled  in  and  reeled 
against  him.  A  rifle  in  a  woollen  case  clattered  at 
his  feet. 

"  Mer '  Christmas !    How-do?  "  said  a  weary  voice. 

"  Merry  Christmas,  brother ! "  replied  Archer.  Then, 
"Bless  me,  but  it's  Sacobie  Bear!  Why,  what's  the 
matter,  Sacobie?" 

"Heap  tired!  Heap  hungry!"  replied  the  Micmac, 
sinking  to  the  floor. 

Archer  lifted  the  Indian  and  carried  him  over  to 
the  bunk  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room.  He  filled 
his  iron-pot  spoon  with  brandy,  and  inserted  the 
point  of  it  between  Sacobie's  unresisting  jaws.  Then 
he  loosened  the  Micmac's  coat  and  shirt  and  belt. 
He  removed  his  moccasins  and  stockings  and  rubbed 
the  straight  thin  feet  with  brandy. 

After  a  while  Sacobie  Bear  opened  his  eyes  and 
gazed  up  at  Archer. 

"Good!"  he  said.  "John  Archer,  he  heap  fine 
man,  anyhow.  Mighty  good  to  poor  Injun  Sacobie, 
too.  Plenty  tobac,  I  s'pose.  Plenty  rum,  too." 

"No  more  rum,  my  son,"  replied  Archer,  tossing 
what  was  left  in  the  mug  against  the  log  wall,  and 
corking  the  ba  tie.  "i*nd  no  smoke  until  you  have 


332        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

had  a  feed.  What  do  you  say  to  bacon  and  teal 
Or  would  tinned  beef  suit  you  better?" 

"Bacum,"  replied  Sacobie. 

He  hoisted  himself  to  his  elbow,  and  wistfully 
sniffed  the  fumes  of  brandy  that  came  from  the  direction 
of  his  bare  feet.  "Heap  waste  of  good  rum,  me  t'ink," 
he  said. 

"You  ungratefu*  little  beggar!"  laughed  Archer, 
as  he  pulled  a  frying  pan  from  under  the  bunk. 

By  the  time  the  bacon  was  fried  and  the  tea  steeped, 
Sacobie  was  sufficiently  revived  to  leave  the  bunk  and 
teke  a  seat  by  the  fire. 

He  ate  as  all  hungry  Indians  do;  and  Archer  looked 
on  in  wonder  and  whimsical  regret,  remembering  the 
miles  and  miles  he  had  tramped  with  that  bacoc 
en  his  back. 

"Sacobie,  you  will  kill  yourself!"  he  protested. 

"Sacobie  no  kill  himself  now,"  replied  the  Micmac, 
as  he  bolted  a  brown  slice  and  a  mouthful  of  hard 
bread.  "Sacobie  more  like  to  kill  himself  when  he 
empty.  Want  to  live  when  he  chock-fulL  Good  fun. 
T'ank  you  for  more  tea." 

Archer  filled  the  extended  mug  and  poured  in  the 
molasses — "long  sweet'nin'"  they  call  it  in  that 
region. 

"What  brings  you  so  far  from  Fox  Harbor  this  tim* 
of  year?"  inquired  Archer. 

"Squaw  sick.  Papoose  sick.  Bote  empty.  Wan? 
good  bacum  to  eat." 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES       333 

Archer  smiled  at  the  fire.  "Any  luck  trapping?" 
he  asked. 

His  guest  shook  his  head  and  hid  his  face  behind 
the  upturned  mug. 

"Not  much,"  he  replied,  presently. 

He  drew  his  sleeve  across  his  mouth,  and  then  pro- 
duced a  clay  pipe  from  a  pocket  in  his  shirt. 

"Tobac?"  he  inquired. 

Archer  passed  him  a  dark  and  heavy  plug  of  tobacco. 

"Knife?"  queried  Sacobie. 

"Try  your  own  knife  on  it,"  answered  Archer, 
grinning. 

With  a  sigh  Sacobie  produced  his  sheath-knife. 

"You  t'ink  Sacobie  heap  big  t'ief,"  he  said,  ac- 
cusingly. 

"Knives  are  easily  lost  —  in  people's  pockets," 
replied  Archer. 

The  two  men  talked  for  hours.  Sacobie  Bear  was 
a  great  gossip  for  one  of  his  race.  In  fact,  he  had  a 
Micmac  nickname  which,  translated,  meant  "the 
man  who  deafens  his  friends  with  much  talk."  Archer, 
however,  was  pleased  with  his  ready  chatter  and  un- 
forced humour. 

But  at  last  they  both  began  to  nod.  The  white 
man  made  up  a  bed  on  the  floor  for  Sacobie  with  a 
couple  of  caribou  skins  and  a  heavy  blanket.  Then 
he  gathered  together  a  few  plugs  of  tobacco,  some  tea, 
flour,  and  dried  fish. 

Sacobie  watched  him  with  freshly  aroused  interest. 


334        CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

"More  tobac,  please,"  he  said.  "Squaw,  he  smoke, 
too." 

Archer  added  a  couple  of  sticks  of  the  black  leaf 
to  the  pile. 

"Bacum,  too,"  said  the  Micmac.  "Bacurn  better 
nor  fish,  anyhow." 

Archer  shook  his  head. 

"You'll  have  to  do  with  the  fish,"  he  replied;  "but 
I'll  give  you  a  tin  of  condensed  milk  for  the  papoose." 

*Ah,  ah!    Him  good  stuff!"  exclaimed  Sacobie. 

Archer  considered  the  provisions  for  a  second  or  two. 

Then,  going  over  to  a  dunnage  bag  near  his  bunk, 
he  pulled  its  contents  about  until  he  found  a  bright 
red  silk  handkerchief  and  a  red  flannel  shirt.  Their 
colour  was  too  gaudy  for  his  taste.  "These  things 
are  for  your  squaw,"  he  said. 

Sacobie  was  delighted.  Archer  tied  the  articles 
into  a  neat  pack  and  stood  it  in  the  corner,  beside  his 
guest's  rifle. 

"Now  you  had  better  turn  in,"  he  said,  and  blew 
out  the  light. 

In  ten  minutes  both  men  slept  the  sleep  of  the  weary. 
The  fire,  a  great  mass  of  red  coals,  faded  and  flushed 
like  some  fabulous  jewel.  The  wind  washed  over 
the  cabin  and  fingered  the  eaves,  and  brushed  furtive 
hands  against  the  door. 

It  was  dawn  when  Archer  awoke.  He  sat  up  in  his 
bunk  and  looked  about  the  quiet,  gray-lighted  room. 
Sacobie  Bear  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 


CHILDREN'S  CHRISTMAS  STORIES        335 

He  glanced  at  the  corner  by  the  door.  Rifle  and 
pack  were  both  gone.  He  looked  up  at  the  rafter 
where  his  slab  of  bacon  was  always  hung.  It,  too, 
was  gone. 

He  jumped  out  of  his  bunk  and  ran  to  the  door. 
Opening  it,  he  looked  out.  Not  a  breath  of  air  stirred. 
In  the  east,  saffron  and  scarlet,  broke  the  Christmas 
morning,  and  blue  on  the  white  surface  of  the  world 
lay  the  imprints  of  Sacobie's  round  snowshoes. 

For  a  long  tune  the  trapper  stood  in  the  doorway  in 
silence,  looking  out  at  the  stillness  and  beauty. 

"  Poor  Sacobie ! "  he  said,  after  a  \^hile.  "  Well,  he's 
welcome  to  the  bacon,  even  if  it  is  all  I  had." 

He  turned  to  light  the  fire  and  prepare  breakfast. 
Something  at  the  foot  of  his  bunk  caught  his  eye. 

He  went  over  and  took  it  up.  It  was  a  cured  skua 
—  a  beautiful  specimen  of  fox.  He  turned  it  over, 
and  on  the  white  hide  an  uncultured  hand  had  written, 
with  a  charred  stick,  "Archer." 

"Well,  bless  that  old  red-skin !"  exclaimed  the  trap- 
per, huskily.  "Bless  his  puckered  eyes!  Who'd  have 
thought  that  I  should  get  a  Christmas  present?  " 


14  DAY  USE 

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